


Wily Wants

by Roofie



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Actual violence as well as pararibulitis-violence, Anal Sex, Double Vaginal Penetration, Drama, Eventual Smut, Exhibitionism, F/M, Fingerfucking, Fivesome - F/M/M/M/M, Fluff, Freight Hopping, Group Sex, Hurt/Comfort, I beg your patience, I don't know where I'm going with this yet, I'm writing my own season 3?, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Other, PDIs - Public Displays of Indecency, Pararibulitis (Dirk Gently), Plot With Porn, Polyamory, Porn, Project Blackwing (Dirk Gently), Reckless Activity, Shenanigans, Smut, Speculative Lore, Travel Fiction, Vaginal Sex, Weekly Van-tings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:54:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 109,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23479534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roofie/pseuds/Roofie
Summary: Amanda had a list. It wasn't a very big list, written on the back of a receipt from some distant 7-11, that didn't make much sense. It was just a jumbled mess of disconnected words and a few innocuous scribbles that couldn't really be described as pictures - more like symbols. She was going to find everybody on that list, just to stick a middle-finger up at Blackwing.But whilst Dirk Gently was a hunter of very benign answers in very bizarre ways that somehow always wound up with everyone in very imminent yet unexpected danger, the Rowdy 3 were different. They were constantly throwing themselves intentionally into very imminent danger, and didn't particularly care whether they got any answers to any questions at all.It was with them that Amanda would soon learn there were so many different kinds of hunger beyond her own curiosity. A bunch of different needs mixed up with a load of wily wants. She had been sure she knew all of theirs, shoved into that van day and night, night and day; the feel of them, the taste of them, the sound of them, sometimes even the smell... She was wrong.
Relationships: Amanda Brotzman & Cross, Amanda Brotzman & Gripps, Amanda Brotzman & Martin, Amanda Brotzman & The Rowdy 3, Amanda Brotzman & Vogel, Amanda Brotzman/Cross, Amanda Brotzman/Cross/Gripps/Martin/Vogel, Amanda Brotzman/Gripps, Amanda Brotzman/Martin, Amanda Brotzman/The Rowdy 3, Amanda Brotzman/Vogel, Cross/Martin
Comments: 26
Kudos: 56





	1. Feed

There are so many different kinds of hunger. A bunch of different needs mixed up with a load of wily wants. Amanda had been sure she knew all of theirs, shoved into that van day and night, night and day; the feel of them, the taste of them, the sound of them, sometimes even the smell...

The urge to feed was the hunch in their backs, as though their emptiness was heavy. The desire to break and smash and scream was the buzz of barmy before the van doors flew open. The need to be _free_ was a fluid curve between blowing condensation into the cold night air, making shapes, and attacking the nearest 7/11 for the slushies and twizzlers. It was all a crackle across reality as they prepared to consume their desires.

She thought she understood the adrenaline surge and how they filled their bellies... Until that first attack after Wendimoor.

It was chains. Had there ever been chains before? Nails and fire and frostbite, sure, pain and panic, but chains? They slid up out of the riverbank and rooted her to the spot, climbed up her bare thighs and tightened over her chest, dug into her wrists and squeezed at her throat. She was choking. And sure, it hurt, her ribs were cracking and her wrists were crunching, but _why_ was this happening?! They'd only been teaching Beast and Cross how to swim!

The boys were there in an instant, of course, the clothes they'd been struggling back into, with soggy skin and damp underwear, entirely forgotten. Surrounding her quickly, making a wall with their bodies between her and the world; Vogel had her back, like always, his trousers halfway up his thighs, soaked tighty-whiteys; Gripps rocked up on her left, he'd managed to get a t-shirt on - same as her; Cross loomed over her right, he'd failed to pull on anything over his briefs, but he had managed a single boot? And Martin stepped up front, only an open button-up shirt with his boxers. Amanda croaked, their bodies lurching inward ready to take her... _stuff_.

"Drummer..." Cross' tone was rough, it had been weeks, maybe even a few months. She hadn't been scared. She hadn't been their feast in all that time. They'd been eating from scumbags they'd caught in the street and terrorised.

She felt a shin fracture, and the inability to collapse under restraints was simply disgusting. Grinding her teeth, Gripps reached out to take her hand, as though to keep her standing. She immediately wished he hadn't. The terror that ran through her when he did...

Amanda saw the chains slither round and climb onto him, pulling him into her torment; their hands locked together by rusty metal. He couldn't let go! This had never happened before, not here, not outside of Wendimoor. She didn't know how to control it here, it didn't _feel_ the same. Her attacks had never gone _beyond_ her. Not without her pushing them there. But the way Gripps' shoulders rolled... Could he feel it? His eyes widened, and the boys rocked back a few steps in shock. She knew they were getting an echo of what he felt, what _she_ felt. Was it hurting him too? Gripps' head came down on her shoulder, heavy, as he flexed in vain against her chains. He was silent. He shouldn't have been.

And then there was a new dread that settled somewhere deep in her stomach. Maybe they couldn't... or _wouldn't_ help. Not now. Not now that she was _hurting them_. She felt tears budding in her eyes, they trusted her now - not that they didn't trust her before. It's just that there's a difference between _hoping_ for loyalty and being pulled into another reality by a Witchakookoo to save you from a bad situation. There's a difference between _hoping_ and _knowing_. And what did they _know now_? That she was another in a long line who would hurt them.

A shoulder came out of its socket, and when Amanda opened her mouth to scream the chains took hold of her jaw, held down her tongue, muffled her cries. They tasted like iron and muck. Blinking away tears, she felt rather than saw Martin and Cross step back in. There was the distant gentle sensation of fingers coming up to the shaved sides of her head and scratching along the hairline, Vogel pressing his balmy forehead to the back of her neck. He made the smallest pained choke, and she whimpered; _got you too, gobbo._

Gripps was ratcheting, Amanda felt a bone that wasn't _hers_ break in his back. Vogel pulled in against her spine as his binds grew taught, and even though she couldn't see how they were hurting him, she could hear it in his breaths against her ear. And with a shriek of horror she felt Cross' warm hands come up to her back and belly, grabbing hold. Why? Why were they doing this? Didn't it hurt?! Her arm broke in two places as her lungs fought to breathe. Martin took hold of her cheeks, studying her open agonised mouth with interest, before pushing his temple roughly against hers. And with a snap, they were _all_ in chains. Martin's throat disappeared under a writhing swarm of links, his air immediately stolen from him. Cross' torso became a criss-cross of spinning metal, driving into his skin and drawing blood.

"Wow." Martin gasped, eyes fluttering down as his glasses shattered in against his cheeks.

 _No. No. No. No._ She was going to have to _leave_. They wouldn't want to keep her in the van, not after _this_. She'd be all alone again. Alone with _this_. Just like she'd thought, just like she'd feared, darkly and grimly as she had laid by the river and watched the Rowdy 3 (all five of them) play like kids at a summer camp none of them had ever been able to go to. The private dread she had felt at losing all of that, all of them...

And then, through all her pain and hysteria, Amanda Brotzman was _furious_. She hadn't asked them to _touch_ her. In fact, they had never had to touch her to feed. Why were they doing this _now_? Why were they doing this to _her_? She was so angry it almost blinded.

The chains clamped down hard around all of them, like an extension of her bones, something crunched and voices rose in the dying light of day. She didn't want to hurt them... They were _making_ her? They were making her! Fucking- _what_?!

"Give us your best shot, Drummer." Cross' agitated voice was barely there, as he pressed his nose in against her collarbone.

Without even thinking about what he meant, she lashed out with it. The metal expanding and contracting around them all, pulling them in so tight they were sharing flesh. It felt like her head might burst as she made them ache and break and ripple.

Cross was brought to his knees by a suddenly broken ribcage, pressing his teeth hard against her thigh; "We ain't going _nowhere_."

Vogel's fingers cracked back unnaturally from her head leaving just his palms against her skin and a wet open mouth squeaking at the top of her spine; Gripps' arm, still hand in hand, twisted away like it was made of rope, and his legs gave up the ghost as he wrapped himself desperately around her shin. It made her want to scream, their agony in her periphery, but she could feel her lips turning blue from losing the battle to breathe... Then Martin's head snapped back like something from a horror movie.

"Fuck-" She heard him choke, and that was it, she was done playing whatever game this was.

"Feed!" She spat at them from beneath the links pressing down on her tongue.

They didn't need telling twice. But they _absolutely_ needed telling.

The blue glow of their feast, never so welcome and familiar, was electric. The sound of their howling intake was like wolves on the wind. Amanda's nightmare slid, slow, up from her toes to her teeth, out through her tongue and into their mouths. The chains creaked, loosened, they slid away into the dirt like worms in muck. Their hands never left her, as a cold sensation settled across her body in the absence of pain. And when she could look at them, the _hunger_ in their faces sent her knees to jelly.

Amanda keeled forward, and they all buckled with her. A heap in the mud. Slamming onto her knees over Martin's stomach, she clutched Cross' head by the hair as it curled into her lap and up against her own mid-drift; she kept a tight hold on Gripps' fingers as he huffed down against her shoulder; Vogel's whole weight pressed in at her back and she felt him settle near her ear. They hauled horror as she trembled between them, closing her eyes against the brightness of their consumption. There was almost a scream in the air, so much to _take_ this time.

Then there was the rush of visions. She hadn't had any in so long...

When it was over, Amanda cried. It seemed like the thing to do. To weep from guilt and shame. Huddled in around her, their own mucky dog-pile, the Rowdy 3 waited. Hands all over her, digging into skin. When she felt she could, she pulled away to blearily and apologetically check Cross' face where he'd tucked in by her belly, relieved to see no injuries as she stroked the hair from his eyes. The look on his face... The same as before, that made her legs forget their lessons, was made up of terrifying gentleness, awe and care, overshot by some burning _hunger_. Amanda cast watery eyes over them all and saw different shades of the same need colouring them, only she didn't know what it fucking _was_. They'd just eaten more energy in one shot than they had had all together in the last _two weeks_ , what the hell more could they _want_?

Almost as though trying to answer the question, Martin reached up and ragged her face down to his by the hair. Electric all over again. He ran an open mouth up her face, a rumble in his throat that rattled into her ribs.

"Fuckin'-ay, Drummer." His teeth nipped at the tip of her nose, and she felt each man wrapped round her give their own small sounds of agreement "What a buzz."

Eyes wide she pushed up and away from him, "Wh- wait, what? What? Why did you _do_ that? Why did you _let_ me hurt you?" 

"What's some imaginary broken bones between friends?" Gripps chortled, and she felt Vogel nod but she was still utterly astounded, "Tasted like aspartame; shit at first, but then it gets ya."

Shaking her head to clear away the nonsense of _that_ , she gestured at their darkening faces; "And what is _this_?" Were they somehow pressing in closer? "What is that? What are you _doing_?"

She didn't receive any words as an answer, but an answer came all the same. Cross' hand slid across the fabric of the t-shirt on her back, pulled it up, and then ran hard fingers against bare skin, it made her arch her chest into his face - he smiled at the reaction; Martin roughly rubbed up her thighs, squeezing tightly enough to ache when he reached just below her ass, making her hips buck involuntarily; Vogel's hands bounced up the fabric on her stomach and Amanda nearly panicked when she thought he was going to touch her breasts, but he stopped just shy, his fingers tapping ribs with unspent energy, his breath in her ear raising gooseflesh she knew they would _all_ notice; and Gripps, ever sweet Gripps, simply brought her hand to his lips and kissed it, punctuating the action a moment later by grazing the back of his fingers up the delicately soft skin at the back of her arm and causing her to shiver.

"The fuck?" She gasped into the twilight air a breath later.

It was all she could think to say. Overwhelmed, confused, frightened, their intention had been made clear, she just didn't know what to do with _any_ of it. Nor the _why_ of it _,_ like at _all_. And almost as though they understood that, that she was frozen, their hands were gone. Martin slid backwards out from under her, even though he never stopped looking; Cross used his fellow Rowdy's shoulder as a boost to clamber up; Vogel fastened his pants and vaulted to standing; and then Gripps was helping Amanda to her feet without so much as a word. All up and semi-clothed Rowdies, again.

They were still so close, though, still right against her skin. Just, not touching anymore, not pushing their intent. She could hear their baited breathing, feel it against her exposed skin like the lick of an open flame. For only a moment she shook under their combined desire, before raising her eyes to meet it. It wasn't theirs to say what _she_ wanted, after all.

But then Vogel smiled bright and giddy, and the tension broke, "It's your show, Boss."

He rubbed both his own side-shave and hers with the back of his knuckles before walking away; Gripps touched her nose with his fingertips whilst making off too, not some twee gesture but a sharing of body heat; Cross took a hold of her face and pressed his lips to the back of her ear, rubbing his nose in like a puppy before clearing out - to find his other boot she hoped. And then there was Martin, his intense stare never going anywhere.

He stepped up, pressed in with his body heat against her chest. Lifting his suddenly-not-broken glasses up onto his forehead, he slid his hands behind his own back to keep from touching. Instead, Martin ran his nose over hers, breathed in deep of the smell of her. Amanda could hear her own heart thumping in her ears. She was _so sure_ he was going to kiss her that when he pulled away to look at her instead she found herself jutting out her jaw, daring him to comment on how he'd seen her chase after his lips.

"Told you before, we've got nowhere to be-"

"But here for me." Her brows furrowed, and was that what _this_ was? Their bodies so close she could taste skin?

And with a rush of movement Martin's hand whipped round and pulled her t-shirt aside. Pressing an open mouth and bared teeth down onto her shoulder, Amanda found his shirt was the only thing she could hold onto to stop from falling over. It hurt.

"Fuck."

"But that don't mean we don't _want_ you, also." He licked the bite, nuzzled her neck then side-stepped away from her.

Amanda stared at the stars first blinks above her head. She could hear the boys pulling their clothes on, knocking each other off balance, rough-housing like nothing had really passed between them. She supposed it hadn't. There was no possession here, never between them, and there was certainly no ownership over _her_. They were the Rowdy 3 _; and they want me_. Amanda took a deep breath, and heard a loud branch snapping somewhere up the bank.

"Beast! Put some clothes on!" She shouted in the general direction of the disturbance, "We're out of here!"

She turned to watch them gather things up by the riverbank, Cross got a mean head-strike on Vogel with an empty beer can. Then they were heading back her way, towards home, towards the van. They were quiet passing her. Gripps handed her the rest of her clothes shyly, and that was _not_ going to do.

"Fuck off with that." She snapped at him smacking his cheek jovially, "We're painting my nails before bed, yeah?"

His answering smile was instantaneous, as was the boys' immediate relief ahead of them, "I got red!"

"Perfect. Now, get!"

They piled in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a work in progress, I'm not entirely sure where I'm going to end up.
> 
> But I'm apparently getting somewhere!
> 
> I think I'm writing my own season 3?
> 
> I hope you like it!
> 
> Please leave comments! It's nice to know folks are enjoying my word-vomit.


	2. Gone to Oregon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay... now there's actual violence?
> 
> Idon'tknowwhatI'mdoing

Hunting.

They were hunting.

Someone like them was getting real close to being caught by a pack of rats that were _nothing_ like them.

And whilst Dirk Gently was a hunter of very benign answers in very bizarre ways that somehow always wound up with everyone in very imminent yet unexpected danger, the Rowdy 3 were different. They were constantly throwing themselves intentionally into very imminent danger, and didn't particularly care whether they got any answers to any questions at all.

' _We are not professionals!_ ' is how Cross liked to put it.

However, whoever they were hunting had proven a real _bitch_ to find. They hopped from coast to coast and city to city almost as much as the Rowdies did. Never staying anywhere for long, but almost always long enough so's everyone knew they'd been there. Sounded _real_ familiar... It was making Amanda antsy. 

"The guy's just having too much of a good time!" Vogel had explained after one very frustrating and bloody motel-raid, when she had asked why the boys weren't able to follow the scent of this _weirdo_.

Instead they were following the trail of rats. Which meant the Rowdy 3 were a few too many steps behind.

Amanda's old visions had gotten them to a few places in good enough time to pick up on some things (and smash a few skulls), though. Like, they knew whoever they were after was a musician, and that said Music Man also seemed to realise they were being followed - but were just enough on the right side of dumb to think it was a some sort of stalker-groupie, and not at all an out-of-control government regime and the van full of punks trying to stop them.

Now though, what little she could remember of those visions was being far outstripped by what she hadn't seen. Her last one was just blurry bullshit. She needed another if they were going to get ahead of Blackwing. And that meant another _feed_.

* * *

She'd brought this to the table at the weekly van-ting, Gripps painting her toenails with the tinny sound of retro-wave floating from the cassette player out front.

"You sure about this, Drummer?" Martin asked heavily, wrapping his hands up in the chains by the front seats. They hadn't spoken about any of it since her last attack; not what they did. They had, well and truly, left the ball in her court.

"Yeah, we gotta trigger them." Amanda nodded, taking the hand of the youngest Rowdy tightly across the seats, "Vogel helped me to do it, t- to find you guys."

"But they're different now, right?" Martin pressed; Amanda had asked in the days leading up to this and she knew that in this reality no one else could _see_ what she saw, but seeing a thing didn't prove a whole lot.

"Yeah, they get _out_ now, man." Cross grinned, "I mean, can you do that to everybody?"

"What, you mean like 'normies'?" Amanda blinked.

"Well, yeah!"

"I don't know. I didn't even know that would happen last time."

"Felt like hell with a taste of heaven." Gripps nodded knowingly, but _what_ exactly he knew he wasn't really telling.

"We should find you a normie-" Cross said, decidedly.

"So what can we do?" Martin asked over them both, bringing the conversation back in line as Beast's head popped up in the driver's seat curiously.

"We gotta scare the shit out of me." Amanda sighed as Vogel grimaced.

"Shouldn't be too hard..." Martin shrugged.

Amanda shook her head at him; "I feel too safe with you guys, I never think I'm in danger - even when I _am_ in danger."

She didn't miss the soft smile Martin quickly covered with his hand before he spoke again; "Alright, Drummer, so what are _you_ gonna do?"

"Well, I've been thinkin'..."

* * *

That night Amanda pulled herself over the barrier of a bridge, heart thudding in her throat as Martin followed her along its length angrily on the other side of the barrier - the safe side. Fingers in the links, she walked the rusted metal edge carefully, until she was at the highest point where they'd tied a rag in daylight.

"So when you said you'd been 'thinkin'', what you _meant_ to end that sentence with was 'I haven't been _real_ stupid lately'." Martin grumbled, and the barrier beside him rattled as she punched it at the right height for his head, "This ain't _safe_ , Drummer."

"That's the _point_." She hissed as a car passed them by, Martin hiding her from view.

"You could get hurt."

" _Also_ the point. No danger, no fear, no stakes."

"They don't like it. _I_ don't like it."

"Look, it's not like I haven't done this before, man-"

" _This_? You've done _this_ before?"

"Well, not exactly _this_ -"

"The train." It wasn't a question, which was good, cos she didn't really have an answer. She'd needed to find them, for Vogel, for _her_. It was a dumb move, a dangerous one, but it worked. Vogel had told them how well it _worked_. This would work too.

"It'll work." And she said it more to herself than to him.

Martin tsked at her as he pressed his head against the barrier, a miserable and frightened expression on his face as he stared at her back; she couldn't look at him, just like she couldn't look at Vogel last time. Their fear would just put her off. Her knuckles were white as she held onto the barrier grates.

"I'm- I'm not letting Blackwing do it again. What they did to you guys. What I did to _myself_. This is me... _fighting_ , yeah?" And a long beat of silence was her initial reply. 

"You gotta go feet first," he finally offered, well, more like spat, "cover your mouth and nose, but _don't hold 'em_ , keep your elbows in, and keep your damn head straight."

"Thanks-"

"Fuck you." He snapped, and she snapped it right back.

He was gone, heading for the shitty fishing boat they'd co-opted a few hours ago; the 'Captain' terrorised into submission, his vehicle sprayed with a dozen dripping 3s.

* * *

Amanda waited, the wind loud in her ears and the night sky winking at her. Sometimes she wondered if the universe was real, or if that was just a canvas somebody a whole lot weirder than them was painting dots on. Probably was.

The river below roared its steady rhythm, a black snake across the moonlit landscape. She dully hoped it wouldn't be too cold, and smirked at how stupid this all was. _Still gonna do it though, aren't I?_

In about half an hour she saw a search light atop a dingy old boat slowly trawling upstream, headed her way, and she knew it was the Rowdy 3 (all 5 of them). Their signal would come eventually, and then all she had to do was step out... Into nothing... And try not to die. Her heart was back in her throat again, and she giggled with nervous energy.

"Um, Ma'am... Are you alright?"

Amanda swivelled, and nearly lost her balance on the wobbly edge. When had a car gone by? Who the fuck? A torch was shone directly into her eyes and she balked, a cop? Was it a cop? She couldn't see.

"Yes, absolutely fine, sir." She looked down, hoping the light from below was pointing her way. It wasn't.

"Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to start making your way back along-"

"No, seriously dude, I'm fine. I'm not depressed or anything my guy, don't you worry. Have a nice evening."

"Ma'am, I really do have to insist, for your safety. What's your name?"

"Drum- I mean Amanda." She looked down, and _there_ was the signal, "Fuck."

"Amanda Brotzman?"

Her stomach felt like it had hopped up and walked off, like it said 'enough with this shit, tatty-bye' and made for England. This _wasn't_ a cop, she _was not_ safe, and neither was the Rowdy 3.

"Nope. Never heard of her. Bet she's a real firecracker. Really, dude, I'm fine- Sorry- Bye!" And she took three steps back into absolutely nothing.

* * *

She'd barely had time to think about tucking in her elbows when she hit the water. And it _was cold_ , and hard, and loud, and _fucking hell that hurt_! She was under. Opening her eyes didn't tell her if she should swim up or down, but that hardly mattered since her fingers _exploded_. Any air she'd had in her lungs was gone in an instant, her silenced scream just a collection of bubbles floating away with the fragments of her hands. Then there went her toes. She couldn't swim - she didn't have any flipping appendages! The water pressed in like a vice. _This had worked_ , was her bitter thought, _It's also killed me_.

Around her neck her clothes went taught, air flooded into her lungs and she screamed as her palms imploded. All she had left was stumps as she was hauled aboard, the spotlight pointing straight down at her. The deck of the boat was hard, sticky, and it stank like _fish_. The Rowdy 3 crowded in, hunched and ready, but they couldn't- not now! Amanda desperately reached bloody wrists for a leg and found Cross', she saw his kneecap burst like a firework made of bone-

"Black --- Wing!" She shouted as he screamed, shoving him back.

He was up and away in an instant, as soon as she broke contact, his knee not even scratched. The rest turning tail just in time, as the rats climbed aboard. One of Amanda's eyes spewed out of its socket and she might've imagined the sound of it plopping into the river at the end of a rather majestic arc. Then the firing started and she figured maybe it would be better if she was imaging everything.

The Rowdy 3 didn't _do_ guns. Crowbars, mallets, baseball bats and two-by-fours, they always seemed to do the trick, and in such close quarters today was no different. Since guns have got such a specific range of efficacy, once you've got a Rowdy inside it - it's not you and your gun vs a Rowdy. It's just you. And the Rowdy.

Three agents were taken down in quick succession somewhere out passed the light, somewhere in the dark. Gripps rushed on by, driving a mallet into one of their skulls right by Amanda's rapidly-fire-cracking feet. Screaming in agony and frustration, she was _useless_ on the floor- Beast leapt on the back of a man, dug her inhuman teeth into his throat and _tore_. The spotlight span away and the boat was plunged into darkness. Amanda's left arm blew off.

When one of the two fighting against Vogel hit the deck, making the floor bounce beside her, Amanda decided there was no better time to do Cross proud. With an agonised cry, she rolled, smacked her forehead into a masked face and saw the shadow of the back of his skull burst outward. He stopped moving entirely. Then her knee took off for the moon and Amanda was choking on blood from the grenade that had once been her lung.

"It works on normies!" She screeched and sprayed her teeth, somewhere in the distance she heard Cross whooping.

Six more dropped, she heard jaws cracking against splintered wood, ribs caving in on a dented crowbar, bodies kicked back into the water they slithered out of. One agent thought to take an opportunity and grab _her_ , and Amanda grinned as he pulled her up. His eyes grew wide as, from fingers to shoulders, his arms burst like an ignited oil-line. He dropped, and so did she, catching herself on the stump of her one remaining arm with a yelp. 

Somewhere distant, beyond the sound of her ear drum disintegrating, she heard the call for retreat. An agent dashed towards her hap-hazard as the spotlight flashed down on him for just a moment, horrified. Martin chased, banging the walls and roaring as he went. Amanda saw the shape of the 'Captain' make for the door of his cabin with obvious intent to flee. He probably figured a dip in the river was better than _this_ , and he was _absolutely_ right, but who died and put him in charge? _Not me_. Amanda drew up her half-holey shell and growled. 

"You! Keep driving!" She screamed ramming the incoming agent back by the chest, his spine splintering out with a spray of blood before he slammed against the deck and didn't make another peep.

Wide-eyed and horrified the 'Captain' scurried back into his pit and the boat kept chugging up river. A couple of loud splashes somewhere else signified the last dregs of the Rat-King conglomerate making a wiser decision.

Heaving in her ruined body, face part gone, limbs long lost, chest a gaping hole, she turned to the boys, their clothes and faces all blood splattered and buzzing; " _Fucking feed_."

* * *

Amanda gripped the arm that had wound its way round her stomach as reality slammed back in. The vision offered her what it could, for what good it might do. She rocked forward and _groaned_ into the dark _,_ everything _hurt_ , which wasn't her usual come-down at _all_. Every bit of her felt like it was bruised, _and since you threw yourself off a fucking bridge_ , it probably was.

"Easy..." Cross' voice was tight in her ear, his grip about her mid-drift pulling her in rough against him as he stroked at her hair.

She choked on the pain, and felt herself keeling over, but Cross had her. He brought her upright, hand pressing into her chest as her head flopped back onto his shoulder. She saw them all crowded round like shadows, eyes only just starting to dim in their electric glow. Cross' other lot of fingers slipped along her jaw, directing her eyes to look at him. Shaking with adrenalin, sweat dripping from his nose, she felt rather than saw how he licked at his lips when he looked at her. Luminous eyes roaming over her face with concern and that _hunger_. 

"Easy." He whispered this time, and her eyes shut against the dull sting his gentle fingers made pressing against her trachea.

"North-West." Amanda managed to say between gritted teeth, following it up with a wry smile, "Oregon."

Cross nodded, his eyes travelling to the pack around them before pecking her on the forehead. Then half a dozen more hands were on her in the dark. Checking and re-checking; making sure she was there, making sure she was breathing, evaluating the damage... Vogel just held her hand.

"I'm okay, Gobbo." Amanda whispered and she saw him nod, but he didn't speak.

Martin slipped his digits around her throat, inspecting her neck; "You didn't keep your head straight."

"I was distracted." She hissed as he pressed his lips to a particularly tender spot on the jawbone, and her hand flew up to grip his wrist.

"206 bones in the human body." Gripps muttered, hands hesitant over her tender ribs, "You've probably _not_ bruised around 4 of 'em."

"No pain, no grain." Amanda blinked, that didn't sound right, "No plain-"

"You've got a concussion there, Drummer." Martin muttered pulling back and letting go, in the dark he gestured for Beast to come in, "Stay awake. We gotta get."

Beast took Amanda's arm gently, but then hurled her unceremoniously onto her back for a piggy.

"Ow." Amanda groaned, and Beast mimicked Cross with a peck to her arm. Amanda felt hands on her back, making sure she was safe. Another gentle kiss came to the top of her spine, it might have been Gripps - could have been Vogel.

"Drummer did good." Their strange not-human-person offered, and Martin indicated to the 'Captain' to turn this U-Haul around.

"Thanks."

* * *

They were on the road for 3 days after that. The bruises blooming black and purple across almost every bit of her. When it got too heavy, the Rowdy 3 did their best to take the pain - but it wasn't imaginary, so it always came back. Amanda reckoned she looked like an aubergine - nobody commented on it. Nobody said much of anything at all. So by the end of the second day of nothing but metal music and heavy silence, Amanda had had enough.

"Beast, c'mere." She struggled to sit up, Vogel flashed forward to try and help but she smacked his hands away. Rainbow-woman shuffled over, the van wobbling across the highway, "I'm gonna teach you cats-cradle."

Amanda pointed behind herself, for Beast to sit down. And before settling back between their forest-thing's legs, Amanda groaned forward and grabbed the clothing-repair-kit she'd stashed under one of the seats. She quickly made a thread loop as she rested back against her student's chest.

"My Nanna taught me this."

Taking Beasts hands down in front of herself, Amanda showed her how to loop the wrists and thread the fingers slowly. It was a simple game but you always needed two people, and Beast seemed to be the only one in the van who wasn't mad at her - or sad at her.

"That's it." Amanda encouraged as they passed the pattern back and forth slowly, and Beast's sharp teeth spread into a lopsided smile.

She was a sweet weirdo, Amanda thought, reaching up and rubbing the strange pattern in the skin of her forehead. They'd brought her here from somewhere so different, from where they'd both _been_ something so different. A Witchakookoo and a forest-thing. Now they were just weird women in a weird world.

"Do you understand what we're doing?" Amanda asked abruptly and Beast scrunched her lips up as she let Amanda make a change to the strings, "Are you okay that we're taking you with us?"

Beast gave a few indecipherable chirps and snips before making actual words; "Friends."

"That's not... That's not what I asked." Amanda scratched at the scalp under her rainbow hair, "Like, this isn't safe. Blackwing-"

"Hurt Bibbit." Beast nodded, and Amanda nodded back, "Hurt them?" Amanda nodded again, "Friends. Don't hurt."

At that Amanda's body rippled with a flash of sickening heat. Around the van, the only Rowdy even looking at her was Cross, and his expression was something indecipherable. Fear is a kind of hurt. _Out of everybody,_ Amanda thought, _I ought to have known that_. And a spike of horror ran through her, the realisation only just hitting of what she'd actually _done_. She really hurt herself, nearly _killed_ herself, just to get one-up on Blackwing. What reckless thoughtless bullshit was _that_?! The _shame_ she felt.

"Keep safe." Beast offered, pulling Amanda out of the spiral, but in the process they both lost the string, "Aw."

Amanda pulled that peculiar face down to her own and kissed a cheek; "I bet you're _so smart_ in forest-speak." 

Cats-cradle started again.

* * *

The weekly van-ting minutes in the parking lot of a closed-down mall went like this :-

Amanda: "I'll be the first to admit, I don't really know what I'm doing. That I make stupid choices and bad decisions. That I frighten you guys, that I frighten myself and I'm sorry. You trusted me. I- "

Martin: "We trust you, Drummer."

Amanda: "Yeah but I fucked up, and you guys were left picking up the pieces of me. And that's not cool-"

Gripps: "No pieces so far, I would have counted."

Vogel: "We've been happy picking you up since day one, Boss-"

"You can't hurt yourself again." That was Cross his voice sharp, riding the cusp of, well, cross, "Ever. You hear me?"

Amanda nodded, "Cross, I-"

"We told you, _I_ said to you, 'you would never have to worry about that shit again', man." And he pointed at his head to punctuate the point, "So don't go and make it real. Don't go and make it something we _can't_ help you with."

"None of us can promise we won't get hurt doing this, Cross."

"That ain't what I'm saying and you know it, man. You know it. The rats and their guns, they ain't nothing to do with this. This was bullshit from start to finish. We could have done _anything_. You could have let us _try_ something. It was _your idea_ to- to throw yourself off a fucking bridge!"

Martin reached over and gripped Cross' shoulder, they were both looking anywhere but _at_ Amanda. The silence in the van was so heavy it almost sweltered.

"We ain't ever going to tell you what to do or not do but, like, you could have died." Cross' voice broke and it felt like the pin-dropping, "You could have _died_ , and you would have had us stand on that boat and _watch_. That ain't fair, man. It ain't fair."

Amanda swallowed hard, gingerly pulling her battered self across the van into Cross' space. He recoiled, sniffing hard and looking away. She brought his face around and pecked at his circled-eye, pulled her lips across his forehead and around to his cheeks.

"I know, I-I know. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." She kissed his mouth, once, twice, "I'm an asshole."

"Yeah, you fucking are." Cross snapped, his hands suddenly wrapping around her and pulling her into his lap tight enough to hurt.

He kissed her so hard and so rough she almost fell off of him. _Shit this kills_ , but she wasn't stopping him. He pressed her harder down, grinding her hips into him, hands sliding under her shirt to feel the flesh of her ribs, the smooth expanse of her back. His hair fell over her face as his tongue slid into her mouth and she visibly shivered. But then he was pulling away roughly and looking at her, so severely hurt that it made her want to sob.

"Never, yeah?" He demanded, and she could only find the wherewithal to nod at him, "Good. Now get the fuck off me, man."

He pushed her up and out of his lap, wiped at his own face angrily and pushed her aside - into Vogel. Cross shoved his way out of the van and Amanda had never felt so powerless in her life - and she had spent 5 years stuck in a house out of fear doing _fucking nothing_.

She curled her face into Vogel's stomach, and she was so relieved when he wrapped himself around her; that he stroked her hair and scratched her shave. She didn't want to cry, she didn't really deserve to - but she did, cos what else was she going to do?


	3. Music Man (mature)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Gang go to a Rave!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got stuck in the middle there for a while.
> 
> Validate my bullshit, y'all!

They had been in Oregon for two weeks, town swapping and city hopping. Amanda knew once they found it, _they'd find_ it, but leaves on the stream of creation sometimes had to make peace with the fact they were going to be bored as fuck for some real lengthy periods of time.

The Rowdy 3 were holing up in a small municipality where almost everyone worked, or knew someone that worked, at the nearby canning factory. The shops were struggling, the people were tired, and the streets were empty. It was a place reluctantly falling asleep, on the cusp of nightmare. It made Amanda's skin crackle, so they had stayed...

Vogel and Beast came back from a grocery dive with the gig poster between her teeth, chewed up and sticky with twizzler gunk. Amanda knew it would be orange even as Gripps asked what it was they had. She knew there would be an industrial block address somewhere out of town and even some shitty slogan only a stoner might get. Did the Universe know they were ready to have some _fun_?

"That's it!" Amanda shouted from across the yard that they had chucked their shit around.

The scream her back made as she launched herself off of her van-chair and towards them was something she pointedly ignored. The elation in her heart as the Rowdy 3 gathered excitedly around to look at the poster with her, though? That was something she let spread into a smile. She didn't have a complaint in her as they pressed against her yellowing bruises; finally fading across her arms and jaw, her belly and legs.

"This is who we're here to see." She vibrated, "The Music Man."

"Finally!" Cross cheered.

Vogel yipped and bounced with Beast, singing loudly "Ohh, I am the Music Man, I come from far away!"

"What can you play?" Martin's deep tone lilted, joining in with the nursery rhyme, his smirk readily available for anyone's viewing pleasure.

"That's tonight," Gripps offered as he studied the address and chewed at his cigarette, "and it ain't far from here."

Martin reached over and snatched the half-eaten smoke from Gripps' mouth, "Party time, boys and girls."

* * *

By 'not far' Gripps had in fact meant an almost 3 hour drive. The industrial complex was an abandoned one, maybe visited by a company lackey once a year to make sure it was still standing, but beyond that? Every car and kid the van drove by to reach the centre was here for one night, and one night only. Maybe the place had been loaned out, maybe everybody was breaking in, it really didn't matter. 

When the Rowdy 3 pulled up in front of the warehouse, it was like coming upon a temple, lit up bright and white and ethereal. Thumping bass rattled the air, and shook their van from hundreds of feet away. They were in the right place, the grin on Amanda's face was all they needed to know that. With manic howls of delight they rolled out; crowbars, bats and mallets in hand.

The intense feeling of deja vu was surreal, like she was walking on jello, as Cross took Amanda's hand and yanked her out into the cold night air; the breeze whipping up her thin and strappy summer dress - some black and white bullshit, thrift store cheap. It was as though the world had a tilt that didn't seem true. Or maybe it was that for the first time, reality wasn't planning on pretending to make sense. She wrapped one of the boys' belts around her waist and cinched it, convinced if she closed her eyes, she'd wake up as a star in flux.

This was it.

They were going to meet another weirdo.

* * *

The interior of the warehouse was _impossible_ , stretching away as far as the eye could see, like the tunnel at the end of life. Vogel and Beast were off, sprinting away hand in hand towards the flashing neon lights and the two storey speakers at the heart of the storm. Hundreds maybe _thousands_ of people were writhing in the night to music so indecipherably loud it seemed like there was silence. Gripps' astounded face was glittering, and he quickly made off after Vogel, counting the beats. 

Martin and Cross stood by Amanda as she tried to find the ground, the concept of it even. The static in her senses was mind-numbing, the people around them just abstract shapes, the blur of them hanging in the air as they leapt and jived. And almost like they could feel her floating away, the boys both pressed a shoulder against each of hers. As a gesture it was solid enough, and Amanda found she could start walking; they matched her stride into the sheer hysterical cacophony of noise.

The sea of people was endless, the young and old, the strange and subdued, some dancing, some waiting and some, honestly, were just on another plane existence. As the crowd grew thick, Martin pushed into the lead and took Amanda's hand - she took Cross' in turn. The serpentine path they made brought them closer and closer to the stage, and the DJ into view. The jockey was short, a white man with a shaved head and not a muscle on him. He looked about as high as half the audience but twice as serious.

Cross leaned in close to Amanda's ear, head jerking to the beat, "That him?"

Her gut answered, "No!"

"Then who?"

* * *

The crowd surged forward, as the music lulled into something made with electric strings. Amanda, Cross and Martin followed the stream of bodies around them as a microphone crackled into life. The skinny jockey was waving his way off stage as the warehouse was plunged into pitched darkness and razor thin silence;

A whisper louder than anything Amanda had ever heard brought her hair onto its ends: "The _Opal_!"

A single spotlight fell on a woman suddenly on stage; a giantess, a being so large she seemed improbable. Easily near 7 feet tall, she was black, she was fat, her hair was a mane of magnitudes indescribable, and she was... _Beautiful_. Amanda's whole body screamed as she saw waves of wonder fly out of her. The Opal blew a kiss like a spray of magic dust, and in the silence they all heard her crack her knuckles, put a needle to vinyl, and start the music with a dark heavy beat.

Amanda couldn't find the words as an instrumental whine rose, taking the energy in the room away with it up to a fever pitch. The people heaved, waiting, and all she could think to do as she waited too, bringing Martin's hand up with her own into the air, was point and hope they knew what she meant; _it's her, of course, it's fucking her._

The Opal's hands came up above her head, and like an ocean of puppets everyone around them copied. The lights around the woman, who was indisputably the Music Man, spread out like sunshine. The bodies surrounding them were shaking to a rhythm that was only just starting to swing, and Amanda bounced on the balls of her feet - feeling like she was about to run off, take off, _fly_.

In a single instant every single hand came together, the beat dropped and Amanda didn't really think much more about anything at all.

* * *

The music changed. A whimsical bleep that surged into some heavy industrial dub, the scraping rhythm so rotten it made the world quake. And Amanda was tangled as the dance went on around her. Her hands gripped the loops of jeans on hips, grinding her ass in hard against an erection as a hand worked her breasts through her dress by the handful - Cross. His teeth grazed her ear, scraped their way down to her neck and, finding flesh to take, dug in at the collarbone. It hurt. Something low and guttural rumbled it's way out of her throat in the sway even if she couldn't hear it. It was lapped up by a hungry tongue running into her mouth - Martin. Fingers pressed against the folds of her pussy, the butt of a palm rough on her clit. She was so _close_...

Amanda's eyes flew open, and all three of them rocked hard - like reality suddenly smashed back in and now they were all _awake_ ; aware of the heat in their bellies, and the pressure between their thighs. Grabbing Martin's arm with both her hands, Amanda's eyes scattered around the room. People! There were people everywhere! Waves of flesh in the laser-light. Were they watching? Was anybody? The screaming bass was white-noise in her throbbing chest, and distantly Amanda felt her panties down around her ankles. She found the stage and saw the Music Man was gone! _There isn't time-_

"No." She felt Cross' breathless agreement against her shoulder, the heat of it on her skin going straight _down_ , and Martin pulled her towards himself by the goddamn _crotch_ , "But you should still _finish_."

There were two fingers inside before she could think, that rough palm _circling_ ; Martin set a pace so sudden and so quick her thighs nearly gave out. Amanda found herself flustered and laughing as Cross crowded in to keep her upright. The crowbar in his hand was cold against her stomach as he pushed the fabric over her chest aside and kneaded her tit with coarse fingers and a sweltering palm. Martin pushed in roughly, deeper, and Cross smiled against her skin as her head lolled, pussy thankful, the feel of his teeth was like the shock from a badly insulated light switch.

The strobe-lights above them rolled and flashed, and Martin's glasses gleamed with them like a cat caught in headlights. She couldn't see _him_ , it made him just a mad shape against her buzzing skin. Amanda clumsily snatched the spectacles from his face and hooked them to the front of her gown. Even in the dark his eyes were _hungry_. He licked a wide arch up her chest to her neck, so heavily he could feel her swallow. His fingers _curled_. _Christ_ , she didn't know what to do with her _hands_.

Martin shoved his baseball bat into them; something to grip, something to _squeeze_. Then he yanked her elbows up to his shoulders, forced her onto tip-toes. His nose pressing into her cheek, his breath was a harsh but even rhythm in her gasping mouth that matched his _fucking fingers;_ he smelled like cigarettes and static _._ Amanda hitched each time her weight came down with the music, her folds rubbing against his palm as he worked. Every time she tried to kiss him he pulled away, making her chase it. She was lightning in a jar.

Riding a hand up over her stomach, Martin quickly undid her belt and tossed it away. He slid up underneath the loose fabric of her dress, tracing a stinging path up her body before he pushed Cross' digits aside to dig in with his own at her tits. His fingers were so _calloused_ , and he squeezed so hard it _stung_. He used _nails_. Amanda bucked roughly against his pumping mitt. Cross hurriedly pulled up at her dress from behind. She thought maybe he was going to take her whole thing off- but instead she felt the flesh of his torso press hard and flush against her skin. Her head rolled back, eyes fluttering closed at the heat. When was the last time she was skin to skin with someone? Anyone? He was so _warm_. Amanda felt the _third_ finger and her body started to quiver.

Cross's tongue skittered across the back of her teeth, giving her mouth the attention that Martin was only teasing. Cross' hands spread searing and heavy over her stomach as her thighs came in tight around Martin's wrist. She was writhing between them both as the bass rolled on like an earthquake.

"You gonna cum, Drummer?" Which one of them even asked? Did it matter?

Surely the answer was obvious, as Cross' fingers slid down over her ass and harshly into her cunt along with Martin's. What else could she do? Martin turned his palm to replace it with his thumb against her throbbing clit. He made quick harsh circles that drove her right to the edge, but it was the way they _fingered he_ r; together, rough and fast, unrelenting and fevered. You're damn right she came. She came like she was the Goddess Electric; sparks flying out of her mouth.

There was a burst of red light, a rushing consumption. _This_ was what they wanted? This energy? They could _have it_.

* * *

"Drummer!" Vogel suddenly bounced through the crowd, Gripps at his heels with Beast atop his shoulders, "Was that her? That was her, right?"

Amanda looked up hazily from between Martin and Cross' shoulders. Her eyebrows knitting together with a vaguely important thought.

"Um did you see where she went?" She had cotton mouth, c _os we sure didn't,_ "Where are Beast's clothes?"

"Yeah! And I don't know!" Vogel's grin was face-splitting as the boys' attention had to come round and down to the elephant in the room, the hands Martin and Cross currently had... inside her snatch.

Martin quickly stepped in, taking Amanda's hip and pulling it forward. The friction between her legs made her eyes roll, and she licked her lips as his nose settled in against hers. He looked her dead in the eye as his fingers were withdrawing - sketching a lazy line up her stomach. She could feel the wetness on his digits before he pulled them away, and she swallowed hard when he pointedly put them into his mouth.

Cross, much more helpfully, pulled away and leaned down to retrieve her belt and brought up her underwear. When he was standing tall again he quickly wrapped himself around her, fastening the belt back on. He nuzzled into the back of her neck as he did so. She smiled at the feel of his stubble.

"Come on!" Vogel laughed, grabbing her hand and dragging her away towards the stage.

* * *

They hit the barrier, an 8 foot tall chain-link fence, and followed it round to the right, the Rowdy 3 making a snake through the crowd. The rave rolled on, the music making its own heartbeat at the back of their throats. When they came to the end of the stage and saw an open stairwell down, they bundled round to look at it. Amanda handed Martin his glasses. The boys threw their shit over the fence, clattering, but under all the din it was unheard.

Amanda felt the world shift off kilter all over again, like everything was moving just a little to the left of reality. And maybe the rest of them could feel it too, their ears filled with synth and shouting, as all of their hands came up to grip the chains in unison.

"She was wearing 3 shirts." Gripps announced as he wobbled between Beast's erratically opening and closing thighs.

"Who?" Cross' eyebrows knitted together as they all continued to stare, "Beast or the Music Man?"

Martin whistled up at Beast, "Time to rock the boat."

With an intense focus, the Rowdy 3 pushed roughly against the fence, with enough force to make it _lean_. Of course, it sprang back. So, they violently shoved again. The Beast, using their momentum, launched herself off of Gripps and onto the links with her bare toes. At the top she perched and wobbled, then swung down like a wrecking ball, all of her weight in the drop. She was just another screech in a mad crowd, and Amanda's eyes fluttered shut at the shuddering buzz of barmy that rippled through the boys' in their answering holler. They rammed again, their booted feet pressing the fence even farther down.

"Hey! Stop!" A man shouted, dashing up on the other side and trying his darndest to grab Beast, her legs flailing him away.

"Security!" Cross' voice was manic.

Vogel, bouncing, yowled and scrambled up the fence; his weight pulling the whole thing back their way like a seesaw as he cackled. Then he was over and slamming down alongside Beast. Their feet hitting hard on the ground as the fence _buckled_. Martin and Cross looped their arms around Amanda's back, lifting her from the floor with a swing. She kicked above the chains and ran up the hill they had made. Driving down like she was on a diving board when she reached the top, the metal surrendered.

Beast and Vogel scrambled back as the barrier fell in a wave, the gap expanding by dozens of feet. The Rowdy 3 surged ahead as onlookers took their chance to rush the stage. Scooping up their weapons, they made a dash for the basement. Gripps beelined for the Guard.

"You're not allowed-" was all the guy got out as the Rowdy grabbed him by the collar and barrelled them both towards the staircase, taking it with a screaming dive.

Vogel yanked Beast up into a piggy tossing her his bat, which she promptly started swinging over their heads. The pair swept down after Gripps, cracking the walls as they went. The rest streamed in behind, smashing out lights as they scrambled on with their hectic business of wreaking chaos. Sure, this was never going to be the _best_ first impression to make on someone but, hell, it was an honest one.

* * *

The Music Man screamed as a rowdy mass of limbs swarmed down the corridor after her. They kicked pipes from the walls, shattered the fluorescents and plunged the tunnel into darkness. The dull thud of bass still surged overhead. She pulled out a can of pepper-spray; nailed one of them right in the eyes.

"Oh, I don't like that!" He cried swerving into a wall as a wiry woman leapt forward, hooking around The Opal's waist and dragging her to the floor.

Scrunched up into a desperate ball, the Music Man made frantic pleas to the unknown powers of the Universe; something along the lines of ' _please, oh please, I don't wanna die_ '. And it all stopped.

Behind her tightly shut eyelids everything shimmered with some strange whispering glow. When what could pass for silence in a subterranean passage underneath a rave came, the Music Man peaked out from behind her fingers. There were shadows all around her. Dully glowing eyes. She squeaked. This was a nightmare, a bad dream, it had to be.

A shape stepped towards her and crouched down.

"Tasty." One of the shapes whispered overhead.

"Yo." It was a girl's voice with a deep and forward tone; a phone screen suddenly illuminated their _serious_ fucking face, "You're _really cool_. Can we get your number?"

* * *

The Rowdy 3 and the Music Man spent an ungodly amount of time huddled into a tiny storage closet as she desperately tried to explain (to these people she was now absolutely convinced were the _dangerous_ kind of stalkers and not the _cute_ kind) that, _no_ she didn't _actually_ know how to make music (so they didn't really have to kidnap her into some exploitative musical-themed human trafficking ring). That she'd never played an instrument in her _life_ , and not because she hadn't tried, but because she literally _couldn't_. 

"You think I haven't wanted to take some kind of pride in my work? Have some _skill_? Watch." The Opal frantically picked up the nearest roadie guitar and attempted to play a single chord in order to punctuate her point; in the process she snapped three strings and broke off a tuning key, she looked down at the ruined instrument dejectedly, "Oh, well... shit. Somebody's gonna have to fix that."

"But we just saw you." The short one with all the Tasmanian Devil whirly-energy gawped, as the taller one (with the colour scheme of a skunk) tapped his bat to his boot in time with the beat above them, "You were- you were..."

"Something _else_." The raccoon-eyed girl breathed as the goddamn _naked_ one under her arm nodded furiously.

"That's because this place needed _something_ tonight." The Opal gestured broadly, hitting the thick one in the chest as she did so, and flinched, "I can't even keep a beat on my own. It- it doesn't work how you think! I go where the music needs me to be. Where the air needs some sort of _healing_."

"She's the holistic Music Man." The guy with the giant _circle_ on his face, like a monocle, offered.

The 'Music Man' bristled, "And who the hell are _you lot_ then?"

"They're the Rowdy 3." Soon-Raccoon answered promptly, as if _that_ made _any_ goddamn sense.

"There's 6 of you!"

"Yeah, but we'd already bought the t-shirts." Monocle-McGee shrugged.

And then the air in the room shifted, like a wave of tension settling in thick; it seemed to hit Skunk-City first, the bat stopping mid-tap as his head tilted like a beast, not a man's, towards the door; then Mono straightened, the grip on his crowbar tightening as he too looked in the same direction. The rest seemed to turn towards the door almost simultaneously, as though they were hearing something The Opal couldn't. She took her chance in their distraction, and made a dive for that very door.

She was out and running, heart almost bursting through her chest as she fled. Glancing back for only an instant she saw something utterly unexpected, totally confusing; looks of intense concern... _for her_. And then she hit something, _someone_ and was scrambling. Dragging herself backwards, she found she was unable to scream as a wall of rifles pointed down at her. Today was _not_ her day.

Three sets of hands simultaneously grabbed her by the shoulders, pulled her down the hall at a dash. The firing started, and in the flashes The Opal saw the three biggest men in this damnable Rowdy 3 ramming their way into the gunfire. A mallet found a crown, a bat enjoyed a jaw, a crowbar took a chest for good measure. Then those hands were forcing The Opal up onto her feet, encouraging her desperately to move.

"Run, Music Man, run." The naked one plead in a gritty broken voice that sounded utterly bizarre.

"Who the hell are _those guys_?!"

"The ones we gotta protect you from!" Taz screamed as something was hurled their way.

"Me? What do you mean _me_?"

The answer to that question was unfortunately not forthcoming as the tunnel was rocked by a blinding flash and a deafening bang. The Opal hit the deck again, and so did the other three. Someone was screaming. Someone was screaming like they'd never known more pain in their life.

* * *

Amanda was _blind_ , her vision a white blur where everything and everyone in flux was Flubber. She couldn't hear the Rowdies fighting, only the dull and distant popping of rifle fire accompanied by a painful ringing in the ears. But then, even that faded to nothing as her whole body _screamed_ electric. She felt sparks flying from her tongue and she howled, lightning spitting out of her eyes, her nerves dying with a metallic singe. She brought her hands up in front of her face, and felt the strings of power zapping between her fingers, rolling all over her body. And she couldn't fucking _see_ , it was like the whole picture had been burned away to nothing but the edges.

She'd _felt_ this one before, though. _Used_ this one before. She'd be damned if she wasn't going to use it again; she'd be damned if she let Blackwing take _anyone_. Roaring, Amanda forced herself up, only to topple ass over end - her balance utterly shot. Clutching the wall she tried it a different way, unable to get herself upright without completely keeling over. Her whole body spasmed, the cry ripping out of her lungs felt like dragon-fire. Her unseeing fingers found the edge of a doorframe, and using it as leverage, she flung herself down the hallway. Even _crawling_ was a game of 'try not to lean'. In the dark she was a mad skittering shape, squawking in agony.

Her fingers came upon the head of a discarded mallet, and the horrified wail that came out of her felt like a primed static bomb. Frantically she scrambled around for Gripps, panicking when she found his leg. He was kneeling, hunched and heaving.

"Gripps! Gripps, are you alright?" She could feel the contact made him quake over and over as she clambered up him to find, to her horror, an arm wrapped tightly around his throat.

"G-good... Drummer." He gasped through what sounded like gritted teeth.

Furious, Amanda surged up, finding a masked face, and she stuck her thumbs in the fucker's eyes. His brain _boiled_. Gripps lurched to his feet, free, eager to be back in the fray _._

"Throw me!" Amanda demanded, "Throw me _at them_!"

In one fluid motion, Gripps did exactly what he was told. Scooping her up by the armpit, his whole body rolled with shock before he span her up, out and away.

Like the worlds most gangly bowling ball, Amanda hit the pins in one cacophonous smash. Screaming, her whole body _surged_ with the overwhelming amount of contact. Every body she touched brought her agony to a mortal pitch, her mind scorching black, but with every pulse of pain another one of them _stopped fucking moving_. She reached out for them all like a spider after flies, bodies were conductors after all, and the sparks were a web connecting. If they so much as _touched_ each other in this tightest of quarters, they were going down.

Silence fell.

* * *

Someone roughly yanked Amanda out of the mess she had made as she was screaming, desperately trying to hold her own chest together. Her skin was splitting, about ready to burst - like a tree struck by lightning, vaporized. Six separate hands clung to her body, forced her to keep standing, as three different sets of lips pressed in around her neck. Kissing, and licking, and breathing in electric as it rolled off her skin. She could hear the sparks dancing across their teeth and down their throats. Feel their whole bodies pull in tight against her as they ate up the sensation of lightning. But there were only three...

"VOGEL!" Amanda cried, her whole body spasming in until she came up off the ground.

"Boss?" The voice was frightened and confused, somewhere in the not-too-far-off distance.

"Can you see?!" She surged towards it, the sound of him, the bodies about her clumsily making it possible.

"No-"

"Me either. Come here."

She found his hands in the white, reaching blindly for her. Pulling him up, Amanda wrapped her arms around his neck tightly. His whole body vibrated with the current in her touch.

"Holy- wow." He gasped as he hugged her in, taking every wave of energy that rolled its way out of her.

His teeth found her ear and nipped as those mouths continued to lick and kiss and suck at her skin. Her teeth chattered and her eyes crackled. There were hands on her thighs, against her stomach, across her chest, in her hair... What did it feel like to them? What did it taste like? Then Vogel was kissing her, sucking at her lip, and biting down for blood as another wave of it swept through them all. It hurt like _hell_ to her, her fingers and toes curling in like they might crack.

"Feed." She whispered into his gasping mouth, " _Please_ feed."

Their consumption was a moaning rolling _thing_. Their fingers digging in and following the swell in her sinew as the power surged up and out, curled into their mouths and down to their bellies. This one took Amanda's breath away, huddled in tight and unable to see. She was a vessel writhing with energy _for_ them. Nails dug in at her chest, fingers pressed against her throat, hands pulled hips against hips, and knuckles knotted in her hair. They heaved as it ended, gasping and grating at the walls of her body, starving for more of her. Whispers in her ears as they pawed and pulled and licked and kissed :-

"Please can we _keep_ you?"

"Can we _have_ you?"

"Let us _take_ you-"

"Let us _fuck_ you."

Amanda felt like a God, all over again.

"Um..." The Opal's shaky voice was so loud compared to their hissing gasps somewhere down the corridor, "A little help?"

Beast was sat on top of her, pawing at her face.

* * *

Two tracks were playing out of synch as the Rowdy 3, and the Music Man, climbed out of the basement to witness a sea of people scrambling onto a stage where they should not be. There were too many, manic with intent, there was no way through them and, as Martin drew in a strong whiff of the heated air and shook his head, they knew it wasn't safe for them in that crowd. Carried in Gripps' arms, Amanda felt the world begin to tilt almost all the way upside-down. She reached for The Opal, held up by the two Rowdies who weren't visually impaired.

"You gotta _do_ something," She shouted over the nightmarish sound of vinyl being scratched into ruin, "We _need_ to get out of here."

"I already told you, it doesn't work that way!" The Opal replied desperately, every face in the crowd was another rifle-toting lunatic as far as she was concerned.

"Then how _does_ it work?" Cross asked angrily, "You think the Universe wants you caught here? After it let _us_ find you? Let us _protect_ you?"

The Music Man stiffened, straightened, her face hardening, "Fine. Get me onto the stage."

They did. The stairwell rocked and creaked, buckled with too many bodies. The Rowdy 3 emptied it off with force, chucking people over railings, and terrifying others with the weapons they brandished. A desperate man shouted noiselessly at all the unhearing people, trying in vain to get _anyone_ to leave.

"Give me the damn mic, Jeffrey!" The Opal screamed at him, and the poor guy did, before fleeing from the rising threat of a _crush_.

The Opal smacked the top of the microphone and heard the reverberating pops over the speakers. Some dick who was flying high tried to snatch it from her, and got a bat in the face for his efforts. Shaking her head, the Music Man took a deep breath, and then another - her gigantic chest expanding in a way that seemed utterly unnatural. Wincing, she pulled her incredibly large dishevelled hair completely off of her head, to reveal rows and rows of neat cornrows under a tightly wrapped net. She turned to her would-be rescuers, towering over them like she was something from a myth or legend...

"This better fucking work." She growled, "Cover your ears."

The Music Man _screamed_.

It was the most melodic _deafening_ note the World would never hear again. Perfect in pitch, swelling through her chest and out of her mouth like a celestial trumpet. It was incredible, a life changing sound, one that tore the world asunder and showed the crowd, forcibly, how they were all made of stardust.

The shockwave rolled out, visible, wiping the crowd, dropping them like narcoleptics. Those unlucky enough to be right by the speakers were blasted back like they'd been hit with a tsunami. Not a soul was left standing as the note trailed off into a disappointingly out of tune warble. Silence fell across the entire warehouse as The Opal dropped the mic with a heavy thud.

The Rowdy 3 crowded round, taking their fingers from their ears, Cross nodded approvingly at the unconscious swarm; "C _ool_."

* * *

The Van careened away into the night, excitement growing with every passing second that got them farther from the centre of the industrial complex. The Rowdy 3 whooped as they slid out onto the highway and Skunk-City slammed on the accelerator.

The Opal clung to the back of the driver-side chair, eyes wide with horror as the vehicle swerved across three lanes and back again, "You sure you know how to drive?"

"Nope!" Skunk-boy laughed as the people in the back bounced and shouted around each other - the van rocking on its chassis as they celebrated their escape.

The Opal didn't have it in her to think about _that_ answer, so she settled back to watch the rest of them with mortified interest. Those who had been blinded ecstatically embraced others because they could see them again. Laughing, Racoon-girl pulled an over-sized t-shirt onto the buck-naked one as the whirly-gig guy giggled and held her still.

"Drummer!" Someone shouted, and Soon-Racoon was suddenly barrelled into a hug against the seats.

Licking her lips; "That your name?" The Opal called over all the noise, "Drummer?"

The girl grinned up at her from under, as another piled on, _two_ men's aggressive affection.

"It is in these parts." Skunk-City replied from behind her head, "In order: Martin. Cross. Gripps. Vogel. _Drummer_. Beast."

The people around her allowed themselves to be introduced, their manic energy tossing them from seat to seat. Music Man needed to bring the adrenalin down - it was giving her a sick feeling in her stomach. Something these lunatics didn't seem to suffer from, at all.

"Who _were_ those guys?" She asked the most pertinent question, because going around the houses didn't seem like the best tactic with this bunch, "And what in the hell did they want with _me_?"

"They're the bad guys!" The one who had been dubbed Vogel announced aggressively.

"They suck!" That was Cross.

" _That_ was Blackwing." Drummer rolled up into a sitting position as she was released by her captors, "And they want _everyone_ like you."

"Like _me_?"

"Like us!" The guy called Gripps hit himself in the chest.

" _You're_ like me?" She was incredulous.

"We're fucking _weirdos_." Martin lit up a cigarette then began banging the cabin walls proudly.

"We've been trying to find you, to warn you, for _months_." Drummer explained, seriously.

"Wha- Why? Y'all don't even _know_ me."

"Nah." Cross nodded, "But we know what _they'd_ do to you."

"Personally." Gripps ground out through his teeth.

"Couldn't have that." Martin blew smoke out the window.

"Couldn't have that." Drummer repeated, scooting her butt closer to The Opal, "Nobody, _nobody,_ deserves that."

"Okay... How did you find me? I don't even known where I'm going to be, usually."

"I _saw_ you." Drummer seemed to colour up, sheepish, "In some visions... I- I have visions."

The men around her made enthusiastic noises of support, and the Music Man looked them all over again; they were fucking nuts, crazy to be sure, but they were as sincere as they come. And looking at the state of their van, they were definitely like her in one way at least; they didn't stay anywhere long. Something out there wouldn't let them.

"The first time," She started carefully, voicing something she'd never felt safe enough to tell anybody, "I did _it_ , my cousin had been shot up, had bad odds, didn't make it. I was, maybe, six years old? My Mama made me get up in front of everybody and sing. I didn't know any damn words! I could never remember anything. I closed my eyes and just..." The Opal gestured vaguely, unable to describe it, "Afterwards... I- I never heard a silence like it. I thought I'd done a bad job. It scared the shit out of me. But I think- it was like I'd breathed air back into the room. Like all the pain went to some place quiet to pick on a bug, or some shit. Like they could think for a minute about it, and it wouldn't hurt? I _grew_ 3 inches."

It was a pointless story, it didn't tell them anything _big_ or _important_ , but it told _her_ enough as they looked at her without a shred of disbelief; "You guys still want my number?"


	4. I Could Teach You Some French (explicit)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one with the porn in it.
> 
> You know, that porn I mentioned? It's in this chapter.  
> That's right, the porn, it's in this one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at where we started, lads, and now we here!

The Rowdy 3 dropped The Opal off at the nearest station - bus or train? They didn't know. it was just someplace where she could get someplace else. Amanda triumphantly held her phone to her face as they sped off into the night. The buzzing energy in the van was that of satisfaction, of validation. They'd done it. They'd saved the Music Man. Looking over them all with a grateful smile, Amanda cradled her trophy to her chest and let herself _breathe_.

Martin turned the Van into a bay in the middle of nowhere, a dirt road leading off it into the beginnings of a forest. Trundling down, he pulled up some ways away from the highway; far enough along that they would be hidden from view, at least for the rest of the night. He gave a tap on the back of his chair as he turned the engine off, and the Rowdy 3 moved out in a practiced fashion.

Gripps and Cross shoved the benches and chairs through the back doors as Vogel and Beast climbed out and up to dig the couple of mattresses they had strapped to the rigging out (they stole fresh ones from sleepy outlet stores and unoccupied show-homes every few months, never motels though - those were fucking gross). Martin looked up at the sky, trying to decide if it looked like rain as Amanda stared out at their surroundings; into the pitch-black night. She decided they needed light.

They didn't tool around with a barrel in the back of the Van, but they did keep a small stash of firewood. Amanda made quick work of clearing a spot, circling it with a few spare throwing-bricks and gathered stones in the dim light of the Van's interior. Soon a fire was blustering into life as the boys took up seats or collapsed on bedding around it. Beast huddled down in the 'cave' of the Van. On cold nights, or wet ones, they usually joined her, but the sound of crickets and spitting wood was as sweet as pie. It was a world away from where they had just been, from what it just was.

Knees cricked as Amanda rose to find her own resting spot, and a hand reached out to her in the firelight. Gripps sat on a backless bench, straddling the edge of it like a kid on a box as she accepted his gesture and let him pull her in. He nuzzled lazily into her belly as she took off his beanie and played with his messy twists; _they're getting long again_ , she thought uselessly. She pecked the top of his head as he kissed at her stomach through the fabric of her dress, and Amanda let her hands drop to the nape of his neck - drawing circles with her fingertips. He looked up at her, shifting to bring a strong grip to her hips. Holding her gaze, he kissed her again, and Amanda felt the air shift into something tight. She licked her lips, remembering whispers; which one had been _his?_

Something unspoken moved around the campfire, like they could smell a change. Cross came up onto an elbow atop the mattress he'd claimed behind Gripps, and watched them in the dark; Martin reclined, legs wide open, on the high-backed beaten-up van-chair across from them, his eyes tracing the lines of Amanda's body in the glow of the flames; Vogel, crouched behind her by the fire, with a bundle of dried grass ready to toss that now sat limply in his hand, transfixed on _them,_ his shoulders rolling as he hunkered. They had never, in her mind, seemed more like wild animals than in that moment.

Gripps huffed quietly as he reached up for the belt at Amanda's waist and undid it, the motions making her stumble forward against his chest. They grinned at one another as she continued to rub at the back of his neck - harder than before. The belt dropped down onto the muck with a muted metallic jingle as Gripps' hands slid down to her bare thighs and then back up under her dress. Amanda's whole body buzzed as he took hold of her panties and dragged them down, his knuckles raking her legs with the motion. He helped her step out of them, somehow, over her boots, before he tossed them back onto the bed by Cross. In the dark, she saw Cross move to take them, but all he did was chuck them into the rucksack of her clothes near the door to the van. She smiled weakly at him. 

Nuzzling into her belly again, Gripps explored the shape of her thighs with his fingers as he looked up at her. She held onto his shoulders as each squeeze and sweep of her skin made her rock forward into him. His hands were big, and warm, and gentle. When he dug in, it didn't hurt, but the pressure of it made her breathing heavy. He slowly worked his way round to her ass, and the small noise she made of pleasure when he rested there was _so_ loud in this quiet. Smiling, he took the fabric of her dress and pushed it up, asking her to hold it - she did, with one hand, as his lips came flush with her bare skin. His nose was colder than his mouth, she noticed, as he trailed kisses across her abdomen like it was precious. 

Amanda wanted to kiss him, so she did. It was sweet and slow, he tasted like body butter and chewed up tobacco, he used his tongue well. She enjoyed it so, she didn't notice what his hands were doing until one swept languidly down the line of her pussy, the lips parting in the cool night air. She jolted, then let her hips follow him as he curled his digits in against her clit and circled. Head sweeping back, she breathed heat up into the sky as she pressed her body into his, scratched down under the back of his shirt to find his skin. Obligingly, with his spare hand, Gripps undid the top of his shirt and jacket; gave her more room to touch him. When that hand was back on her body, it swept up her back to trace deep lines down her spine as he pleased her.

The attention he paid to her clit was lovely, but he was soon dipping fingers into her with slow and steady intent. Her breaths grew shallow as her legs twitched around him, and he would smile any time one of those small encouraging sounds came out of her mouth. Whenever Amanda could bring her lolling head down to look at him, to make sure he was happy, that he was enjoying this (even though _she_ was doing _nothing_ ), he was staring up at her with that _hunger_ which she was finally, maybe, starting to understand.

Then Gripps was sliding down onto his knees on the floor in front of her, and she hazily wondered why he was getting lower until she felt his lips working up her thighs. Gentle hands moved her with purpose, bringing one of her legs up onto his shoulder. He looked up at her, checking in, and she gave him a quick nod. He was eating her pussy, roughly, a moment later; his tongue sweeping her lips, his nose brushing against her core, face pressing into her pubes. The _sound_ he made at the scent of her... distantly Amanda saw Martin and Cross leaning in to _breathe_ of it with him. They were so _far_ away, could they really smell it?

She dug nails into his twists, and scratched at his scalp as her eyes fluttered shut. Her orgasm was a hot and steady thing, he brought her to it and let her have it with muted gasps, encouraging it to loiter. She felt her core grip and release around nothing, over and over, as the utter numbing pleasure ebbed on, and on, then away. Looking down at him, she saw the dull glow of red around his features as he lapped up the cum, she heard the sharp intake of her energy.

A new set of hands worked their way over Amanda's stomach from behind, and glancing down with only a vague sense of surprise, she recognised those arms - they were Vogel's. They slid under the bundled fabric in her hand and searched for her breasts. His body was taught and compact, not a bit of wasted space; she'd hate to call it wiry, but that's what it was as it pressed in against her. Her nipples were hard and, having up until this point remained untouched, she jerked as his fingers discovered them. He hesitated to do it again until she leaned back into him, nodding to try it once more. She didn't jerk the second time, she _writhed_. A small whine in the back of her throat as he circled two fingers over each slowly, then kneaded a whole breast as he pressed up into her space. She felt his erection at her back, as Gripps came out from under her leg and shuffled up onto his bench again to watch her.

She could have them... If she wanted. That's what they'd told her. Dropping her dress down over Vogel's hands, she brought her own up behind her to the fastening of his pants. It was as easy as twisting the button. Pulling down the fly, she pushed the fabric away from his hips. She felt his cock push up against her as his mouth pressed down heavy on her neck. The skin of him was soft, warm against her own. He kissed and he nipped, and he waited for her to give him permission. Sliding her hand down in front, Gripps reached out to steady her as she took hold of Vogel between her legs, pumped him once, twice, then guided him in.

And _oh_ , the _stretch_... 

Amanda's pleasured groan had her exposing teeth, as Vogel bucked unintentionally up into her. Maybe he hadn't expected her to do it so quickly? She turned her head to check in on him, his face buried in against her shoulder. She pecked his forehead, and rolled her hips slowly, her body shaking, still unsteady after Gripps' efforts. She didn't rush it, didn't rush him, her body adjusting to the presence of him hot and hard inside of her. He wasn't big, he wasn't small, but as he slowly pulled himself back out, then pressed back in, she decided it was certainly _lovely_. She tugged his face up so she could kiss him, pushed her tongue into his mouth to taste him - twizzlers and soda.

Vogel found his rhythm quickly, smooth and frequent, coming almost all the way out then pressing right back in. Not as sensual as Gripps, but his hands on her tits were _incredible_ as he fucked her. She couldn't explain the _feel_ of him, the sheer bliss of it, having him move inside of her... he'd held her hand and trusted her to make the right choices so many times. She supposed this was trusting them with one of theirs.

He was getting close, she could tell by the way he breathed on her skin, his lips kissing behind her ear, rubbing into her shave, down her neck, all a little strained and erratic. The sounds of their flesh coming together growing vulgar in the tense quiet. She found she didn't mind if he came without her, because she wasn't particularly close, but _he_ seemed to mind it as he pushed her forward into Gripps. Planting her hands on the man's shoulders, the breaths of their exertion came down over his dark face. He reached out for her cunt while Vogel fucked it. He found her waiting nub quickly, rubbing in fast straight motions that had another climax building more readily than she had expected.

Sometimes his hand swept a little past her, and the thought of him touching Vogel too was so maddeningly arousing Amanda nearly choked on it. _Together_ they made her cum with a high-pitched gasping whine. Her toes curling as she took fistfuls of Gripps clothes. The waves of it hitting different with a cock buried inside of her, with a cock _cumming_ inside of her. That dull red glow was brighter as the pair of them ate up her pleasure, the roar of it like wind.

Drummer's legs turned to jelly as she fell forward away from Vogel. Gripps fluidly guided her into a straddle of his lap as he scooched back on the bench. She felt herself dripping, and the sensation of it... knowing what it was? It gave her goose-bumps. She dumbly looked around to check on Vogel, he was lying on his back on the ground behind her with his knees in the air, breathless, but still watching. Amanda heard the quick clicking sounds of another belt unbuckling and returned her attention to Gripps. He was pulling off his jacket with one hand, opening his jeans with the other.

The jacket slid to the floor away from the fire, and Amanda began pulling at the buttons of his shirt with unsteady fingers. His body was smooth and dark, uncovering it, she explored his chest (broad) and his stomach (podgy). Amanda smiled gently as she ran heavy hands over the sensitive skin at his ribs. His fingers came to her cheeks and pulled her mouth to his own, this kiss was hungry, his lips lingering after each one, she could distantly taste herself on his tongue.

Gripps caressed her body, reaching round to her ass through the fabric of her dress. Pushing her hips, he lifted her away slightly so that he could lean back and release himself from his trousers. Legs still wobbly, Amanda swallowed hard as his cock reared. He was _big_ ; so much bigger than Vogel had been. She felt her pussy clench at the sight of it, as her brain stammered over the logistics. She watched thickly as he stroked at himself, licked his lips and then pulled her forward and over. She pawed at his shoulders, trying to think of _something_ to slow him down, and he _kept_ glancing up at her, she could have said _anything_! But then she felt her lips parting, the hot head of him thick and throbbing, and the raw desire to take in _more_ overwhelmed. She breathed out a low whistle as he nodded, gripping her hips, and encouraged her to come down. 

And _oh,_ the _stretchhh_...

It was slow, maddening _, what the fuck_ , Amanda hectically reached up and roughly gripped at the roots of her own hair as her thighs spread and twitched. Her eyes tight shut, she gasped for every sweltering throbbing inch; breathless like they'd been running for miles. Every hitch of her body was instinctual as her lips spreading for him was indescribable. He pulled her dress down harshly over her chest, exposing her breasts to the firelight. He took a tit in his mouth and suckled, bit down on her nipple. Her hips rolled involuntarily _, what the fuck_ , and the sheer _presence_ of him so far inside her brought on a sudden searing orgasm; so fast and so unexpected Amanda let out the smallest strangled scream as the energy of it spat out of her and into his gaping mouth. He wasn't even finished pushing _in_ yet! His groan against her chest as her pussy squeezed and tried to swallow him was like music.

Amanda couldn't take in all of him, not yet, not on the first try. That would take practice, but _fucking fuck_ , she _wanted_ to. However deep he _had_ reached, she was _so full_ and spread _so wide_ , her hands came down to her stomach to try to find him; convinced she would feel him under the surface of her skin if he moved. She was shaking like a leaf as one of his hands let go of her hip and came round to the knees she'd squeezed tight against his ribs. She hadn't noticed, as he pushed her leg down and forced her booted foot to the floor, she was practically in a ball in his lap; he had been taking almost all of her weight as he worked his way into her. Now he was there, though, he wanted _more_ , and as soon as he was sure her feet were planted firmly on the ground, he began the process of lifting her.

With Vogel, the come out was quick, almost complete, and then he was back in; smooth yet full of friction. With Gripps, the come out _couldn't_ be the same; there was just too much of him. The drag of his cock against the lips of her cunt as he withdrew was ecstatically unending, and when he'd gotten about as far out as he liked, he pushed back in - quicker and sharper than before. The noise Amanda made as she dug fingernails into his fists was fucking _obscene_. He did it again and again, over and over, increasing his speed each time until he hit on a pace that pleased him, made a whine rise in his throat as Amanda struggled to maintain any sort of composure above him.

She wanted hands on her throat, fists working her tits, a tongue in her mouth, she wanted someone _touching_ her. Drummer understood why Gripps wasn't doing it, he needed to guide her, make sure he didn't hurt her, had to hold on and help her; help her to fuck him hard, and harsh, and raw. She didn't trust her own hands to help, though, as she clung to his wrists. Just like she didn't trust her legs to work after all this. Even though she was overwhelmed with the feel of him, the absolute fullness of him, her frustration at the lack of contact was making her lose the thread.

Almost as though he saw her faltering, Cross crawled up off the mattress and walked over to them. He stroked the sweat strewn hair from her forehead as he watched without comment; saw how every lift made her eyes close, and every drop made her whole body spasm with pleasure. He reached a warm hand down to her breasts and kneaded, she pressed teeth against the skin of his arm in thanks as he did so. He kissed along her shoulder-blades, nipped at the tips of her bones, licked at the nape of her neck. The tiny tentative sounds she was making were a plea for further contact; a desperate request to do more.

Cross slid a hand down the back of her dress, pulled it up to reach for her ass. He squeezed roughly, and relished in the way she bucked her hips unintentionally, then hitched, and shook her head to clear the black spots. He nudged her face towards him with his nose as he ran a harsh thumb over one of her nipples, and slid his tongue into her mouth as she opened for him.

A stringy whine suddenly came tearing out of Amanda's throat, as the beat of her sex changed. Grinning, Cross looked down at Gripps, who was bucking up into her with a severe intention. Hard and fast, he _liked what he was seeing_. Cross took her by the throat, kissed her roughly, clattering against her teeth as he groped at her chest. Her hands flew up desperately to her head and she scraped at her hair as Cross took the chance to drag her dress up and off _completely_. Gripps fucked, and fucked, her body naked and bouncing with the beat of it until she was _fucking cumming_ with a strangled cry all over his cock. Gripps didn't stop, though, or wait for it to end. He just kept bumping, his eyes rolling, fucking her through it as her cunt squeezed and sucked at him. His head fell back as he squirted up into her, her thighs squirming around him for the dozen thrusts or so it took for him to finish. The bright red hiss of consumption dragging on beyond both their ends.

Then, in a rush of movement, Cross was pulling her up and away, sweeping his arms under her ass and carrying her - pressed chest to chest. Her whole body shivered as she swallowed and gasped, coming down and suddenly empty. Cross dropped, bringing them both to the mattress. Amanda squirmed up the length of it as he moved away to yank his t-shirt off - he was skinny and long, not an ounce of fat on him, she could see his ribs under muscles that were violence-formed. He slid after her, ragging her hips towards him and taking her cunt into his mouth. The sound in her throat was like a rattle, deep and rhythmic, as her hands scraped at the fabric of the bed for purchase. Her eyes found Gripps, lying back on the bench and staring at her. Licking her lips, she was utterly unable to think; Cross was drinking down the juices from all of them. It was too much, it was too sensitive, she wanted to _keep_ it there.

Her hands shot down to grab at his hair. She pulled it, but with little to no effect. He kept eating, his tongue against her throbbing lips, his breath hot inside her. So Amanda gave a violent and insistent tug, one that made some of his hair between her fingers _snap_. He reared back with a hiss, licking the wet from around his mouth. When he saw the look on her face...

He crawled up between her legs, came down on top of her; chest to chest, skin to _glorious_ skin. His body was sweltering. He kissed her. He kissed her like she was his means of breathing. His hands were in her hair, then they were working handfuls of her chest, swiftly moving down to scrape at her legs as she brought them up around his hips, wrapping. She could feel his erection through his pants as he ground into her, and _fuck_ she wanted him _too_ ; she wanted _all_ of them.

Reaching down between them, she made quick work of his fly. Pushing her fingers under the waistband, she took his length in her hand. Hot and silky and already dripping. He nipped at her lips before pressing his forehead to hers and looking down between them. He let her push his pants down passed his ass, and resisted the urge to close his eyes at the feel of her stroking him. Then she was pulling him forward and rubbing the head of his cock against her clit. Kissing her, softly, he reached for her hips, held them in place as he circled his own; watched her eyes roll as he did it. The eye of his cock circling that bundle of nerves harder than she did. Hungrily Amanda's tongue pressed into his mouth, and she pushed him back, down, then fucking _in._

And _oh_ , the _stretch..._

Smaller than Gripps, bigger than Vogel, straight as a ruler and sure how to use it. There was nothing slow or tentative about the way Cross fucked her, but it _was real messy_. He nipped and he groped and he scratched and he _touched her, everywhere_. With him she got _noisy;_ her breathing was loud, gasping harshly into his mouth as he licked at her teeth; every time he bottomed out (because _yes, he fucking could_ ) he would thud in and _grind_ against her hips, making her heave and moan. If he found a place that made her whine even a little, he'd press into it, roll around in it, make it turn into a rumble as she pulled at his hair to make him let up. His body was searing-warm against her flesh. He pushed her hands up above her head, stretching out her chest, her nipples scraping against his skin as she bounced and writhed.

He was pushing in against all of her senses, his face never far from hers as he panted and gulped against her mouth. She could smell the burnt cigarettes, and the lingering sting of spilled beer. When he scratched at her undercut it swelled in her ears and made her moronic. When she looked around, all she could see was his face, his hands, his eyes looking back at her. Only once did she get a glimpse of anyone else, and it was Vogel resting his head on Gripps' bench, watching. They were _all_ watching.

Cross suddenly pushed two fingers into her pussy along with his cock and she was _yelling_ ; utterly incoherent and desperate, dragging herself away from the burst of spasms he forced from her cunt, trying to make _room_ for it. His thumb came down hard on her clit, following her up the bed as her hips bucked, taking him. He was going to tear an orgasm out of her, and she _knew_ it, because he wanted to _eat_ it. As her head spilled off the back of the mattress, she desperately grabbed for the loops of his jeans. She yanked him in hard, locking her booted feet across his back. He was _so deep_ in her pussy, pressed _so hard_ against her clit, as he _ground_ and her body _burst_. The clamp and pull of her muscles was ecstasy as red light sparked in her periphery and he swallowed her pleasure. He followed her over into orgasm with a few uneven thrusts. Licking a hard arc across her trachea, she _moaned_. Her muscles milked it all out of him as he continued to eat, and eat... He collapsed onto her when it was over, and her hands wound into his hair as they heaved; he nuzzled her cheek and kissed her gently.

Then there was an ear-piercing whistle, and the pair quickly shifted round to look at Martin like kids caught in the candy jar. He was still sat, staring at them from across the fire. Taking a drag of his cigarette, his glasses gleamed in the flicker. Cross smirked at him. Pecking Amanda on the nose, she shivered at the cool pop of his penis pulling out. Felt the drip of him. He rolled off of her and flopped onto his back beside her. Saying more with his eyes than anything; _Next._

Martin stood, flicking the spent cigarette into the fire as he approached them. He came to a halt between the bench and the mattress, looking down at her. He clicked and pointed at the spot on the ground in front of him. Amanda quivered, she didn't think her legs had 'standing' on the menu at the moment. Martin didn't care. He leant down, took hold of her ankle and yanked her down the bed with one rough pull. Her eyes flew open in surprise, the shock of it bringing a shot of sense to her fuck-addled brain. She sat up to look at him, and he _towered_ over her. His fingers gestured for her to come, again. She slid onto her knees in the grass and pebbles in front of him. His hand stroked down through her hair, came round to the base of her jaw, dug in hard and forced to her feet by the throat. So that was his thing, then? _Fine_.

He hooked one of her legs up to his hip, held it there firm as he tried to push his face into hers. Amanda didn't let him, gripping the hand at her windpipe, she leaned back as far as she could, looking him in the eye and baring her teeth at him. Growling, her let her neck go, those fingers going straight to her pussy instead. He drove in without much fanfare, four fingers all at once. Her whole body _rolled,_ bucking against his devastating hand _._ The leg she was stood on buckled, and she felt a warm push at her back, keeping her up - Gripps, on the bench.

Amanda snatched the glasses from Martin's face, because they kept making him seem inhuman in the dark, and threw them towards Cross. Shoving her forehead against his, she roughly reached for Martin's belt; snapping it off and tearing at his fly, she shoved his pants down around his ankles and pointedly looked at it. Somewhere between Vogel and Cross in length, nothing to write home about there, but the _shape_ of it. Now _that_ was something. There was a notch at the end, like a crowbar, that made it point in towards his stomach. His fingers pushed deeper inside her and she gulped at the twitching around his digits.

Meeting his eyes, Martin's hand slid round to her butt. She ripped his shirt open and shoved the sleeves halfway down his biceps - restricting his reach. There was the shadow of used muscle across his body, and he was always surprisingly much more physically imposing when he _wasn't_ wearing black. She dug nails into his pectorals hard enough to hurt. Holding his gaze, he nodded, and with a unified _hup_ she jumped up and locked her legs around his waist. His hands dug into her ass as his dick was pressed between their bellies. She reached down and started pumping, and his teeth found her shoulder, determined to leave a mark. She circled the head and she felt his hips bucking up. Hand heavy on his shoulder, she lifted herself, lined him up right, and sank down.

And _oh_ , the fucking _stretch_.

Eyes rolling shut, Amanda's head lolled back and she felt her voice box grate out something deep and indecipherable outside of pure feral _pleasure_. Martin bucked that cock hard up into her, and she gouged a magnificent scratch down the back of his shoulder; every muscle from her crotch to her clavicle rippled. With a hiss, Martin gripped his own wrists together under her ass, pulled her in tight and did it again, even harder. She rocked violently, her tits pushing against his face as she stretched like a cat at the _feel_ of it. This dick was _magic_. She couldn't explain it - it rubbed up against _something_ inside of her that made her whole damn body writhe and clamp.

Amanda found herself laughing at the stars. Everything about her sparked and shuddered as she pulled at his bleached hair and felt him howl like a wolf at the moon. His arms rigid around her, he set a pace that was maddening; fast and deliberate, grinding her clit against his pelvis. At the deepest parts he would circle his hips and that _head_ would make every bit of her body spasm.

She heard Cross moving on the mattress, distractedly she looked down and saw him lighting a cigarette as his head lolled off the edge of it. He was lying upside-down staring up at the point where Martin and Amanda _met_. Her pussy _squeezed_ at the mere thought of it; of Cross seeing a cock pushing its way into her snatch. She wondered if he could see her _dripping_. Could the Rowdy 3 see in the dark?

Martin released and reset his wrists, dragged her in tighter. Any space that had been between their bodies was nonexistent as he fucked and fucked. Suddenly slapping up inside her, Martin _stayed_ there. Amanda scraped at his shoulders from the pressure of it, he was rubbing against that place inside of her and the orgasm came crashing in - and fuck she wanted Cross to _see it_. She felt it _everywhere_ , like a hard-reset across her whole existence, her legs rising up tight against Martin's sides. She felt him feed off of it, a great heaving consumption. Distantly she knew she hadn't took his cum.

As Amanda's consciousness finally re-entered the station, Martin started rutting all over again, and she whined and hit at his chest as her crotch openly throbbed from overstimulation. This wasn't _fair_. She'd come all of _their_ ways. Couldn't one of them do it _hers_? She remembered how his pants were down round his ankles and figured she could use that to get the upper hand.

In one quick shift, Amanda unhooked her legs and kicked the back of one of his thighs with her booted foot. His knee buckled and, losing his balance, Martin span round as he fell. Cross just managed to roll out of the way as they came down hard on the mattress next to him. He laughed at the startled expression on Martin's face as Amanda shoved him off of her and climbed on top instead.

Quick and slick she took him back inside of her with a rippling moan and settled down to straddle him. Martin chuckled as he squeezed at her thighs and bucked up into her. Leaning back, Amanda rolled her hips around him, got his dick to hit _just_ right as he bucked again. Her eyes fluttered closed as she started to ride him at her _own damn pace_ ; something he seemed all-too happy to lie back and watch as Cross placed his lit cigarette in Martin's mouth and laid back to join him in enjoying the view.

Drummer took him up inside her again and again, her thighs aching, as beads of sweat slid down her spine. Her chest bounced and her stomach muscles tensed. It was _so quiet_ if not for the sounds of their fucking, the dull thudding of flesh against flesh as Martin occasionally ground up into her for his own satisfaction. At one point Amanda heard shuffling, and opened a single eye to find Vogel's head on Martin's stomach, staring up at her. She felt a shiver run up her spine.

Putting her vision back to black, she increased the tempo of her rhythm, extending her lift and hardening her drop. Amanda enjoyed the sound of Martin's breath hitch as she bit at her lip. She knew if she wanted to, she could make herself come again, but she wanted him to too. She felt the mattress shift and knew Gripps had come down on it to partake of the show as well. She smiled, but didn't look.

Instead Amanda reached down, behind and beneath her, wrapped gentle fingers around Martin's scrotum and began to massage him. The strangled sound he made, and the involuntary buck of his hips was all the encouragement she needed. She rode him quick and smooth at her leisure, but worked his balls as his grip tightened on her thighs, slid up to her side. His gasps were like static in her ears, and he suddenly seized her body and took control of the rhythm. He was fucking hard and fast, and she increased the pace of her hand until he was jetting it out inside of her. She felt the overwhelming pressure in her cunt, and pulled her hand round to circle her own clit. She brought herself to orgasm over his throbbing softening cock as all four of them blazed red around her. They took the last of the energy she could give, until Martin was sliding out of her and she fell away with a shaky huff.

Settling her head across Cross's chest, her legs akimbo over Martin's thighs. Cross' hand came round and took hold of a breast, warm but still as he stared up at the sky. Vogel closed his eyes as Martin stroked his hair lazily against his belly, and Gripps rolled over onto his front doing a quick tally of something on his fingers. Nobody said anything. 

"Fuck." Amanda whispered with feeling, eventually, after a long stretch of absolute silence, everybody crowded as they were onto the same king-sized mattress.

"Yup," Martin coughed, passing the half-smoked cigarette back to Cross with a wink, "that was the idea."

She hit him in the stomach half-heartedly, and he feigned injury, "You're a dick."

He chuckled at her, then leaned over to stroke her cheek, he kissed her carefully, then deeply, then hungrily. Pulling away, he settled back and returned to petting Vogel.

"I liked it." Gripps announced happily, and Amanda found herself laughing, closing her eyes, and falling the fuck to sleep. 


	5. Holistic Hobos (explicit)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amanda gets a strange feeling as The Rowdy 3's next mission presents itself.
> 
> Vogel-centric

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for joining me in this nonsense!

Amanda had a list. It wasn't a very big list, written on the back of a receipt from some distant 7-11, and it didn't make much sense. Just a jumbled mess of disconnected words and a few scribbles that couldn't really be described as pictures - more like symbols. It was the first thing she wrote when they got back from Wendimoor.

They had woken up with the sun, its rays breaking through the trees overhead, and Amanda couldn't explain it but it felt like someone was watching them. _No, to be fricking precise_ ; it felt like someone was drilling holes into the back of her head. When she had turned, expecting to catch someone in the trees, there had been that list staring back at her from the windshield of the van. Gripps had stuck it there with a piece of chewing gum weeks ago to keep track of their progress.

Now Amanda was sat staring at that tiny piece of paper. The Rowdy 3 were crowded around her into a single booth in a dusty old rail and road-side diner (her pick) waiting for breakfast. Her skin crawled, like a spider was scuttling up her back, and every few minutes she shivered and scratched trying to catch the feeling; make it go away. She had let Vogel scribble one of the entries off, the first one, their first success, and her thumb rubbed over the heavy dent he'd made in the paper.

As a bunch of plates were scattered down in front of them, Vogel and Cross immediately and loudly fought over who ordered which waffle; Martin began picking pieces of bacon lazily off of various plates; Gripps poured a cup of baked-beans over his pancakes; Beast crammed three slices of ham directly into her mouth; and Amanda? She considered her scrambled eggs on toast before pushing them away.

Martin, watching her carefully, took the plate with a finger and slid it towards himself. He added salt and pepper as she glanced around the room for what seemed like the 100th time. Leaning over with a mouthful of pancakes, Gripps began cutting her toast into triangles and, having swapped plates several times, Cross and Vogel had excitedly begun discussing their warehouse escapade the night before. Shoving the list across the table, Amanda looked out the window and scowled at the sun disappearing behind heavy clouds.

"Alright, Drummer," Martin pushed the plate back towards her with clear wordless instruction ' _eat_ ', "what's next?"

Amanda shrugged, picked up a piece of toast and quickly ate it - clearly trying not to think about the motions. The Rowdy 3, the first 4, didn't _need_ to eat. Not the way Amanda and Beast did. It didn't _do_ anything for them, it had little to no nutritional value. Alcohol got them drunk, sure, but food? It did _not_ have a use. So, for their first few weeks together Amanda had felt uncomfortably exposed whenever she _had_ to eat; all they would do is sit and watch her. She even started going without meals because it was just _too_ awkward. But, then the boys began ordering too, eating like they were hungry. They said it was because food tasted good, or because the candy was cheap - so why not? What they _didn't_ say ran a lot deeper.

By the time she swallowed, Amanda was aggravated enough to turn entirely in her seat and openly sweep the room; there were precisely 6 other people in this diner, and not _one_ of them was looking at _her_. They were glancing at Beast and her razor-sharp teeth, judging Gripps' goddamn tower of beans, gawking as Cross and Vogel simulated very real violence over half-eaten waffles, but her? What was so interesting about her? One of them never even looked up from his newspaper; the main headline about the Local Cannery closing down... ' _go where the air needs healing_ ' the Music Man had said-

"Hey," Cross tried for her attention, with a fork perched at his mouth, and she came back round to glare at him, "what's wrong, man? You're all twisted up."

"Don't you _feel_ that?" She hissed, and the Rowdy 3 paused; their eyes going distant, sniffing and twitching their heads to listen.

"Nope." Cross replied finally, shoving his fork in his mouth, back to eating, utterly unperturbed.

Frustrated, Amanda hauled herself up, standing on the seat. She clambered over everybody, ignoring their loudly exclaimed protests; "I need some air."

* * *

A car rolled by only occasionally as Amanda puffed on a cigarette like she was a steam train. She was agitated, she was pissed, she was paranoid. Rubbing the back of her neck, she looked up at the cloudy sky and sighed. Closing her eyes, she tried to rationalise it, couldn't, tried to ignore it, useless, so she was left trying to distract from it; recalling the night before. The feeling of being- of cumming- of- but then her skin crawled and she span around.

The diner stood muddy on the outside, dusty on the inside; she could spot the Rowdy 3 looking out at her, but that wasn't _it_. Her eyes moved beyond them, to the yard behind; there was a line back there that freights careened up on their way in or out of state. This wasn't a station, though, there was nowhere for passengers to hop on and off. It was a _graveyard_. Amanda stubbed out her spent cigarette with her boot, moving forward.

Desolate freight-cars towered over her as she stepped on abruptly ended tracks, walked along rusty rails. She felt the first spots of rain dampen her face, and she fastened up her leather jacket as she peered inside some. There were the remains of box-beds and discarded food cartons. That feeling of observation dug under her skin. It wasn't an endless yard, it _had_ to be here, whatever ' _it'_ fucking was.

Stepping out between the fifth and sixth row, it was like Amanda's whole body was a vibrating string. A rusted shut burgundy boxcar loomed over her, screaming at her to see it; begging her to find it. A time capsule of significant magnitude.

* * *

"Drummer?" An arm unexpectedly settled down over her shoulders, and she stumbled a little at the surprise extra weight.

As rainwater slowly dripped from the end of her nose, Martin looked up at the carriage with her, studying the chipped paint. Someone had clearly scraped across the corrugated metal with a bare hand; in faded white they had drawn a huge unfinished circle, open at the top, with a line running straight through the bottom - it looked like a trident. Amanda could almost picture the people that made it, a sun-bleached young woman sat atop a similarly burnt young man's shoulders - solemn in their purpose. She blinked, though, and they were gone.

The ground crunched underfoot as Cross approached, looking at a piece of paper in his hand, then passing it to Amanda as he came in line. It was her list, and on it she had scribbled the same symbol.

"What is it?" He asked as Vogel and Beast appeared on top of the carriage, without so much as a sound, looking down at them, "I recognise it, man."

"It's what's next." Amanda replied as Gripps wandered into view.

"Thirteen," he said as he reached them, "thirteen carriages." 

* * *

The sound of rusted metal scraping was _horrendous_ as Gripps and Cross worked together to force the side of the carriage open. It was dark, the line of illumination widening slowly and dimly as Amanda strained to peer inside. Martin moved to offer his shoulders for her to stand on. It stank in there, of stale air and even staler feet. She could see the shadows of writing all over the walls, piles _of stuff_ , paper littering the floor. Rain fell loudly against the trees as the Rowdies' efforts brought the opening wide enough to squeeze through. Beast swept down and in, quickly followed by Vogel. Martin boosted Amanda up, then climbed inside himself.

It was difficult to describe what exactly it was they were looking at; so little of it made any immediate sense. So Amanda started small, or at least started on something singular; the walls. Writing over writing over writing, decades upon decades of words piled up; cheeky greetings, angry rebukes, phone numbers and addresses, hearts with initials and years in them - the oldest she found was from 1973. They seemed to move in a wave from left to right, so that if you span in a circle you were following a thread in time. The same few hands kept returning again and again to offer encouragement, recognition, or to just check in, but then...

There were also huge swaths that had been painted over, whited entirely out to make space for something else; something that made Amanda's stomach curdle. As Cross and Gripps finally got the carriage door open about as wide as it would go, Amanda read the word 'BEWARE'; it had been scrawled above a crudely drawn black bird, followed by 'HAS ANYONE SEEN' and then a list of over a dozen names written in different hands; Big Jule, Mamma Bird, KitKat, Banjo Kid, Dooms... on and on. Pictures had been taped to a few, like they'd been taken out of beaten up wallets or holey pockets reluctantly - desperately.

"Who were they?" Amanda asked the air, because she didn't expect the Universe to answer.

"We knew Banjo Kid." Martin muttered as he ripped a picture from the wall of a mucky sunburnt little boy with, unsurprisingly, a banjo; Amanda nearly twisted her neck with the double-take as Vogel looked down at the photograph and paled in recognition. 

"I knew I'd seen that thing before- He was at Blackwing, man!" Cross said from below them, his arms resting on the lip of the carriage as Vogel sniffed and twitched like a rabbit caught in the open, "The first time."

An intense feeling was creeping up on Amanda as she looked around at the rest of the carriage; at the neatly made piles of what was turning out to be personal effects, with years scratched around them. This was meant to be a terribly private place. None of it was for _them_. It was for the people who came before, and would come along after, knowing it would be there. It was for people who _knew_ and _remembered_.

"What happened to Banjo Kid?" She asked with a dry mouth.

Cross sighed, rubbing the circle of his eye as Vogel hopped out and headed for the Van, "There'll be a box out there somewhere, like this, with his shit in it." 

It was time to leave.

* * *

The Van gurgled and growled like it always did, another part of the pack gnashing at everybody else to keep their distance. They chugged along the highway swerving in and out of lanes without much reason, Martin leaning over the wheel like he would rather be asleep than driving in the rain.

Huddled together in the back, the rest of the Rowdies were playing. The game was utterly indecipherable to Amanda; played with a pack of cards made up of a dozen incomplete decks: Uno, Snap, Guess Who faces, Cluedo weapons, even a tarot or two; and the 'rules' seemed to change with every new hand. The winner was determined by... the aesthetic? Or maybe the amount of eyes? Sometimes, she could have sworn it was by the _lack_ of _noses_. Beast had won precisely once, with _one_ card; the wrench _._

"How did you know him?" Amanda asked, over her incomprehensible hand as the Van passed a sign welcoming them to California.

Cross eyed Vogel before answering, a little flippantly, as he padded through the cards he held; "Sometimes Blackwing liked to put us in rooms together, to see what would happen, man. He was part of this big group they rounded up one time; a bunch of Crusties hopping freight trains 'cross country, squatting, panhandling, busking... shit like that."

"23 of 'em." Gripps held out a card from his own hand, swapping it with Cross for another, "I saw them all once, before the ceiling caved in-"

"They were a _family_ , man, Moms, Cousins, Grandmas... Kids." Cross explained as Beast offered out a card she'd been chewing the corner off.

"K-kids?"

"Yeah." Cross barked a bitter laugh, "Until those guys, Blackwing had stuck to taking teenagers, right? I mean, how old were we, man?"

"Fifteen." Gripps bit through gritted teeth, and just like in the carriage Amanda started to think she was invading on something very private again - she awkwardly took Beast's card.

"Fifteen, sixteen, yeah." Cross nodded; clearly agitated by the memory, he was pressing on to get it over with, "Martin had been taking care of us for a while before we got 'got', and then Vogel-"

"I was twelve." The youngest man _finally_ spoke, miserably, for the first time since the diner, staring at his cards.

"Tw- twelve?" Amanda felt like she'd been a punched in the gut as Gripps reached over to rub Vogel's neck, "You- you were _twelve_?" 

"Banjo Kid was 8." Vogel's hands shook, so he put down his cards.

Amanda couldn't stand it, crawling around the back of Gripps to get to him. Settling in behind Vogel, she wrapped her arms around his neck. He rubbed at his face harshly, breathing hard so she gently kissed at the shaved side of his head in an attempt to sooth. She was _so_ angry, though; _kids, fucking kids_!

"It's okay." She whispered against his skin, "You don't have to tell me any more."

"Whatever," Cross sighed not looking at Vogel again as he rubbed his neck with a strange mix of relief and frustration, "they were good people, is all." 

"What, like, holistic hobos?" Amanda offered, trying to lift the mood with a tiny smile _._

"Hey, aren't we all?" Martin called over his shoulder, and any other day it would have caused a ripple of laughter - but instead it just sat heavy as the rain continued to pour.

* * *

The Motel was abandoned; windows smashed and rooms ransacked. A Highway through one of the National Forests had taken the traffic in a different direction, so business faltered, and then it failed. All that was left was an empty shell, an overgrown rose bush, a drained pool and some broken neon signs. It had been two days since the diner...

The Rowdy 3 made quick work of clearing out a room - the one with the least amount of holes in the ceiling. Disposing of the stabbed and slashed mattresses into the rain-water puddled pool (along with the dirty bedding), the six of them carried their own shit in from the Van. Tonight they would have beds with frames - for the luxury! The broken front door could even be put back in its arch, if they felt like it.

"Now all we need is running water and we've got ourselves a party." Amanda smiled, as bodies hit the beds. Awkwardly aware that no one acknowledged her comment, she headed into the bathroom. Immediately recoiling at the state of the bath, she veered sharply and stopped at the sink. Wiggling her fingers dramatically over the faucets; "Come on, Universe."

A quick turn and... Nothing. She sighed, thankful the mirror had been shattered. She couldn't remember the last time any of them had bathed, not even in a river, which probably wasn't a _good_ thing.

"Holistic hobos, indeed." She muttered wandering back out into the bedroom.

The Beast had climbed into the gap above a built-in closet that was devoid of its doors, arms dangling out beneath her like forest vines. It looked like a terribly uncomfortable position, but Beast had a knack for falling asleep in such places - places with a vantage point, places where a predator wouldn't look, places where she could make warnings. Amanda stroked her face, she didn't talk much this weirdling, but what she _did_ often said enough. Then Amanda turned to the boys.

Two beds with no sheets, no pillows, no comforters, lay out before her. The rain overhead was lifting, now more a drizzle than a downpour, but the dripping from the window was a soothing steady rhythm. Gripps had collapsed face first onto the edge of the mattress nearest the door, his arm dangling off with a beer slipping free; Cross was on his back right next to him, his feet on the floor at the end of the bed with his jacket covering his face; Martin was on the next mattress, eyes closed, leaning against the wall with his glasses in hand; whilst Vogel lay closest to the bathroom silently staring at the ceiling. Amanda pulled off her jacket and screwed it into a pillow-ball, then slid up the mattress on her belly and settled next to Vogel.

"Hi." She whispered, when he quickly looked her way.

"Hey, Boss." He replied just as quietly as she brought an arm and her jacket in under her chin.

Amanda always thought Vogel had the most expressive face. He wasn't stoic or hard to read, in fact he was an open book - _all_ the time. It's why it hurt to see him so _messy_ since the train carriage; skittish and uncomfortable. How could they have known any of this would hit so close to home? The sheer coincidence of it- Then she mentally smacked herself; _the_ i _nterconnectedness of all things, my ass_.

Vogel rolled over, pressing his mouth against her bicep as he stared off into the middle-distance; his eyes raw. She reached across with her free hand and stroked his hair apologetically, pulling it gently away from his face. The Universe wanted her to find people, it wanted her to save the weirdos, and the Rowdy 3 were going to help her do it; she had no doubts in that. They had known they might get hurt, had all agreed it was a risk they were happy to take if it meant sticking the middle-finger to Blackwing; but bullets and bruises don't run as deep as memories.

"They put me with this kid... " Vogel whispered in the near-perfect silence of the Rowdy 3's restful breathing, "And- and I was _so hungry_. W-when we eat, it doesn't hurt people like- _like us_. Y'know, like the British guy? But he- he wasn't..."

"Freaky?" Amanda offered back under her breath and he nodded.

"I don't think they knew he _wasn't_." Vogel's eyes were brimming, horrified, "They'd kept me separate for a real long time. Poking and prodding and _starving_ me. I- I could _feel_ them looking. My family, they wanted to help. If- if I'd just waited..."

"You were a _child_ , Vogel. _None_ of it is on you." Amanda breathed, their faces so close she could count his eyelashes.

"I wish..."

" _What_ , Gobbo? What do you wish?

"I wish I could have said I was sorry."

Amanda's chest felt fit for bursting as she sniffled and smiled at him. Nudging at his cheek with her nose, looking for his mouth, she gently kissed his lips. Stroking a tear from his cheek with her fingers, she decided she could give him as much affection as he needed, to know she would _never_ think badly of him.

 _He_ was the one to carefully reach out with his tongue, slide it along hers with a heavy breath that made her hair stand on end. Pressing up into her space, he ran fingers through her shave so softly she shivered and had to pull away. His vision flicked between her eyes and her mouth, as he licked his lips for the taste of her.

Biting, Amanda untucked her arm and slipped her weight over his chest, coming back down to pull at his chin with her fingers. She claimed his mouth with a heavy inhale, because it was _hers to take_. The heat of his body against her own made the air heavy as his hands shifted from her hair, to her neck, over her arms, across her back, and down to play with the hem of her t-shirt; where he hesitated.

So, Amanda reached down and took his hand, brought it up under her shirt quickly and made him take her breast. The heated exhale they shared as he hungrily kneaded made his tongue feel like lightning in her mouth. Her nails dug into the back of his hand as he increased the pressure almost to an ache; it was sweet that he was tentative, but she wasn't going to break.

As Vogel's thumb came round to heavily circle her nipple, Amanda let his wrist go. She brought her hand to his waist, twisting the button of his jeans, and pushing down his fly. When she slipped her fingers under his waistband and took hold of his hardening cock the hitch of his breath in her mouth was electric.

She stroked him, and squeezed him, ran her thumb over the tip of him, and his hips squirmed at the attention. Taking hold, she pushed a slow and tight rhythm until he was rigid, and she felt him bring his other hand, the one pressed between them, up against her belly and to the lip of her pants. Amanda pulled away only a little, just to look at him.

Breathing shakily, Vogel couldn't tear his eyes away from her mouth; "Can I- Can we?"

Smiling, she nodded. Amanda let him go, and rolled away onto her back to undo her own zipper. Kicking her boots off onto the floor, she rose up her hips to pull everything down; left in only her socks. She felt Vogel make a similar set of motions, so that when she came back round and crawled up on top of him, his dick was sliding against her lips as she straddled his hips, warm and willing.

Amanda's face came down just as Vogel's came up, his hands pushing her hair back as they kissed all over again. He breathed into her mouth and played with her tongue until she found herself stroking against the length of him, her body looking for friction. Running a hand between her thighs, Amanda checked she was wet enough to take him if she wanted.

Pressing her forehead to his, she held his gaze as she licked her fingers. His whole body rippled when she took hold of him again, rubbed him slowly against herself. The feel of her pussy spreading as she slid him inside made her shiver, from her hips to her head. Amanda leaned back, not stopping until their hips met, she straightened and stretched above him, closing her eyes as Vogel made the smallest whine.

Her eyebrows knit together when she felt his fingers shaking and twitching against her ribs, digging in hard as she rolled her hips. Looking down at him, she could tell he was desperate to be _moving_. A ball of pent up energy stuck between her legs, wanting to be told what to do. She took his arms and pulled him up to meet her, and he hungrily kissed at her lips, licked at her jaw as she ran fingers through his hair, unhurried. Amanda rocked back and forth, intentionally slowly, steadily building friction.

Grinning, without warning Amanda leaned around and blew a raspberry against Vogel's neck; it was something childish to get him out of his head. He giggled, and the feel of it ripple through him and into her was _divine_. It worked. His hands started moving all over her again; rubbing at her ribs through her shirt, up her back, over her bare ass. Amanda yanked her top off above their heads, clearing the way for his hands to push up her stomach and roam her bare chest.

His fingers digging into her skin was weighted and wanting. An approving sigh broke through her lips as he squeezed her tits tightly and worked his mouth down to kiss them. Hips bucking with the stimulation, Amanda took the opportunity to pull his shirt off too. His skin and sinew rolling between her fingers as she explored his back, hot and hard. She could follow the muscles when they moved as he suckled her breasts until her nipples were rock hard and throbbing.

Breath heavy, she pushed Vogel back down onto the bed, digging nails into his chest as she _finally_ started to fuck him. Rising and dropping over and over, relishing the motion as his thighs came up behind her ass. He watched her body moving, bit his lip as he saw her pussy taking him completely. She did it slowly, controlling the rhythm pointedly as he blinked and scraped his feet against the mattress wanting _more_.

Amanda dropped down onto him hard, the slap of skin against skin was so loud in the quiet around them, and his eyes rolled up to the ceiling. His hands flew to her hips, gripping them tightly as she did it again and again, their flesh smacking together as she got faster. Then Vogel was using the leverage from his thighs to buck up into her roughly. Her obscene little cry made him whimper, and he did it again to be sure. It was a _wonderful_ sound _._

Amanda had set the pace until then, but _he_ knew what he wanted now, and that was to hear her make _those noises._ Bracing his legs, he took her ass in his hands and pumped up hard, every thrust making her whole body rock right over him. Soon she was falling, her hands digging into the mattress on either side of his head. The position inadvertently providing his mouth with the pleasure of her breasts. She _groaned_ as he sucked them, angling her chest into him as he fucked her _so_ quickly. He knew, as her breathing grew shallow and short, she was getting _close,_ but she wasn't going _over_ , and he wanted her to - he wanted her to _so badly_.

"Well help her along, Vogel, damn." Gripps called out, unmoved from his face-down position on the bed.

And she was laughing; Vogel's eyes flying wide at the feel of her whole body shaking around him, making his toes curl. Shooting glances around the room, he searched for help from _anybody_ because Martin was just lying there, like Gripps, simply listening to their sex.

Face still buried under his jacket, though, Cross had seen fit to start pleasuring himself alongside them - stroking at an intense pace. Amanda's eyes found him too, her teeth worrying her lip as she reached down to take one of Vogel's hands. She lead him to where their bodies met, guided him to her clit, circled his fingers with her own; both of them consciously working to the rhythm set by Cross' distant hand.

When she knew he'd gotten the gist, Amanda began to work her own breasts, letting Vogel continue fucking up into her as fast as he liked. Her breath hitching with each smack of hip against hip. Vogel's fingers rubbed in hard and the rumble in her throat was like magic when her orgasm finally came. She clamped down tight around him, her hands shaking out as her whole body rolled.

A disappointed yelp was torn from of her as Vogel quickly pulled out, his fingers pushing their way into her and pumping instead - carrying her pleasure on even if it was without _him_. He didn't want to follow her over, _not just yet_.

The room flashed red as the Rowdy 3 fed, and Amanda gasped as Vogel was suddenly rolling her over onto her back and pulling his thighs up under her ass in a straddle; one of his feet settling on the floor rather than on the bed as his cock rested against her belly. He came down on top of her as he kissed her harshly. When her hips began moving, looking for more, he slowly slipped back, and slid his dick inside again; he enjoyed how as the lips of her cunt spread, her hips rocked up to meet him; adored how her head rolled and she took a sharp steadying breath.

Vogel's mouth worked down to her breasts, and he sucked and lapped at them as he worked from the hip to fuck her - that foot on the ground giving him stability for a harsher stroke. His pace was maddening as he did what she'd shown him and played with her clit, this time with his thumb; she _squirmed_ \- now overly sensitive.

When he was close he was so much _faster_ , and Amanda was heaving. Her hips grinding into him as he ran a nipple between his teeth and his tongue, then _bit._ Her hands shot to his ass and pulled him in hard, everything clamping down around him like she was _sucking_. Groaning into the mattress, she _came_. _Again_. His tongue sweeping up her chest and over her throat as she rattled. Vogel felt like he was shooting electric, rubbing his hips into hers as she took _all_ of his juices. Distantly they heard Cross' muted completion.

There was another flash of red as the room fell into a restful silence.

* * *

Some time in the night Amanda was woken by Vogel twitching and writhing in his sleep. Groggily rising to check on him, his mumbling discomfort was rising into something heated - he was scared. Martin's hand came to hover over his head; the faint blue glow of a gentle feed came as a nightmare was denied the chance to take hold. Vogel settled, and Amanda looked over his bare chest and into Martin's eyes. He winked at her before settling back to sleep - she followed him...

* * *

Cross was up with the dawn, quietly climbing out of the broken window rather than trying to struggle with the busted door. The smell of his cigarette smoke stirred Amanda from her rest until she was blearily looking around the room. Stiffly pulling on her shirt and underwear, she padded over to the window in thick fluffy socks. She leaned against the empty frame, and together they watched the sun creeping over the forest canopy in silence - passing his roll-up back and forth as the birds chirped and sang.

"He didn't kill Banjo Kid, y'know?" Cross announced in a hushed tone sadly to the sky, "That kid was fucked the minute he wound up at Blackwing."

Amanda passed him the last of the twos, blowing a sharp line of smoke out between her front teeth, before trying to match his volume in an effort to not disturb the others; "I figured."

"How'd you figure?" He asked taking the last couple of drags then stubbing it out on the floor.

"I've seen you feed." She shrugged as he shuffled round to stand in front of her, hands in his pockets, "And even as a kid, even starving, he's- I mean, he's still _Vogel_." Cross nodded at the observation, "It doesn't change how he feels about it. He still hurt someone he didn't mean to, he was scared and alone and _fucking twelve_."

The silence lingered on for some time as Cross looked at the floor. When he spoke again, it was thoughtfully; "Banjo Kid's 'Project' was bigger than ours, y'know? Bigger than I think Blackwing even really figured out."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, like, Gripps said there were, what, 20 of 'em down there with us?" Amanda nodded and he continued, "But that's really all they _found,_ and even _they_ weren't all _weird_. The rest of 'em _tore that place down_ just by _showing up_... I grew up seeing them sometimes, man, and we- we stuck with them for a while after the breach. They helped us get out of state and... they're, like, a- a _people?_ There's _hundreds_ of 'em." 

Amanda took that in slowly, not entirely able to see beyond the 'Projects' she already knew. They'd all been individuals, until you got to the Rowdy 3 - and she'd assumed _they_ were _unique_. She had even assumed, until recent conversations brought it to light, that the boys had always been together _; now what was that saying? 'Assuming makes an ass out of you and me'_?

Pulling her out of her reverie, Cross stepped up into her space, forcing her to pull back in order to watch him - his hands came out of his pockets; "They don't- they don't come together often. They _can't,_ is what they said."

"Universe won't let them?" Amanda scoffed, and he nodded just as ruefully.

"But if we- if we head to San Francisco, maybe I can find some of 'em?" He offered, his hands gesturing emphatically, "I used to know that shit like the back of my hand, hitchhiking and jumping trains? People _knew_ me. I could ask around?"

"You'd do that?" It was a gentle ask, she couldn't see the whole picture yet, but the things she was seeing - it wasn't just _Vogel's_ memories being pulled towards them on fraying strings.

"For you." He sighed, rubbing the circle of his eye, "And for Vogel."

Amanda's fingers came up to touch that circle carefully, tracing it as his body shook in the cool morning air. He was _nothing_ like Vogel; though his face could become dark with feeling he didn't reveal all that much. It was his energy, rolling off of Cross in waves, that told a person what they needed to know; he was a font of anxiety and trepidation - like he was on the cusp of revealing a piece of himself, and feared for the rejection of it. The tenderness she felt for him was overwhelming...

"Kiss me." She whispered, letting her hands drop to grip the window frame as she looked at him, her head tilting up - he was a good foot taller than her after all.

Cross stepped in even closer, his legs pressing against the half-wall as he took hold of her jaw. He did as she instructed; kissed her. Slowly, deeply, and with enough force to make her stumble. As his tongue slid into her mouth and he breathed deep of her, she took hold of his wrists and enjoyed the feeling of being explored. It was some time before he pulled away, nuzzling into her cheek.

"Let's go to San Francisco."


	6. Hashbury (explicit)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of restbite.  
> Tha gang takes a damn shower!
> 
> Martin-centric

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just enjoyed writing a bit of fluff for myself.

It took another few days of gas-station-jumping and diner-dashing to get there, but after weeks of small rural towns and tiny half-forgotten municipalities the sight of the Golden Gate was almost astounding. The sheer size of it as the Van chugged along, it was an artery of metal funnelling traffic in and out of the city. San Francisco spread beyond it, all hills and valleys, practically unending, and the sun shone bright overhead, clearing away the clouds of Spring.

Cross was good on his word, climbing into the front of the Van and directing Martin to a district he kept calling 'Hashbury' but Amanda figured out was 'The Haights'. When he insisted they stop, the Van rammed in behind some expensive car with an obnoxious alarm and an even more obnoxious owner who ran across the road to scream. The Rowdy 3 barrelled out onto the street, and their red face paled as the Rowdies crowded, shoving and shouting, until Cross hooked their neck in with his crowbar.

"You got a marker?"

Apparently they did, as a pack of Sharpies found themselves clattering to the floor and their provider fled from whence they came. Scooping the pack up, Cross pulled out the black one - handing the rainbow-rest to Vogel. They were next to a long stretch of park, which they could see led into an even larger one, a sign said it was called 'The Panhandle'; Beast was already halfway up a tree.

"Draw me that symbol." Cross instructed as he chewed his lip and held out his palm to Amanda.

She sat in the sliding-doorway, taking his hand and doing as he asked. An unfinished circle sat atop a straight line; to her it still looked like a trident. He closed his fingers down around it with a nod as Amanda tossed Vogel the pen.

"You'll be back later, yeah?" His met eyes with everybody individually to get their acknowledgement, "And don't forget I need some skins."

Then he was banging farewell on the side of the Van and heading off between the trees with a purpose. They watched him go in silence, unsure of what to do or think; this was the first time one of them was going to be alone... ever?

"Should we be worried?" Amanda asked nobody in particular, because she knew the answer was 'yes'.

Martin sighed, "It'll be fine, Drummer."

"And if it isn't, we'll cause a mess," Gripps shrugged, "until it is again."

Amanda nodded as his dark hand reached out and she let Gripps pull her up out of the Van. They had stuff to be getting along with in the mean time; food to find, supplies to source and, as Amanda observed the general populace giving them a conspicuously wide berth, she also put 'shower' to the top of everybody's' list.

* * *

Amanda was drawn to a bustling crowd in front of the City Public Library. There were words about hygiene and dignity written in a large friendly font across what _used_ to be a couple of ordinary buses parked by the sidewalk, and they were _surrounded_ by people. It was a hive of activity and welcoming faces as the Rowdy 3 (not all of them) wandered up behind with enquiring eyes. Amanda held onto Beast's hunched shoulders as she took in the blue pictures of showers and water droplets. 

"Isn't this for the homeless?" Martin muttered in a surprisingly self-conscious tone into her ear as they caught the attention of a short and tubby woman with an incredible collection of dreads who quickly headed their way.

"We live in _a van_." Amanda hissed back, but a little too late - the lady heard.

"A van? Well, alright!" Her tone was so remarkably positive as she focused directly on Amanda that Drummer actually blushed; but her eyes were doing the mental math on the five people in front of her "You guys need some water? Food? How about a shower? Haircut?"

As Vogel and Martin began to shake their heads in protest Amanda rolled her eyes readying to speak _for_ them, but it was Gripps who replied firmly; "Yes. We do."

* * *

The process to get onto one of the buses was something they flew through mindlessly, there might have been questions, even some papers; there could have also been absolutely nothing. All of it faded to nonsense as Amanda found herself stood with a couple of towels in a pale blue room with the smell of soap and warm water swirling into her nose; the compartment was small, split into two cubicles; one with a sink, toilet, and general utilities, the other with a shower.

Amanda squeezed Beast's hand as they heard the boys shuffling into the section opposite theirs. Turning to watch them go in, Amanda smiled at Gripps' relieved expression, then closed the door. They had been allowed to share a bus after the surprising (even to them) amount of discomfort they had all shown at the idea of being split up further than they already were; assured no one else would get access whilst they were in it.

Beast took Amanda's gentle cue and began clambering out of her clothes, as Drummer hooked her forehead-hiding bandana onto her elbow before quickly going to turn on the faucet. The water was _warm_ immediately, and she encouraged her forest-thing to get in there and wash.

Left to her own devices, Amanda took up in front of the mirror, studying herself severely. Her make-up was a cakey nightmare - she looked like a damnable Raccoon! Her hair was a nest, bed-head in the _extreme_ ; but she was happy to see the bruises that had littered her body for weeks had _finally_ faded away.

There came the unruly sound of gargling from the shower, and Amanda sighed half-heartedly then giggled as she went to check on Beast. Her head was tilted back under the water, mouth agape as she just let it flow - no washing taking place at all. Shaking her head, Amanda quickly stripped (hanging up the bandana), spotted the shampoo, and squirted some into her hands.

"Come 'ere, you goof." She muttered good humouredly as she scrubbed into Beast's hair diligently.

It took two or three washes to get the soap to even lather up properly, caked as the weirdling was in sweat and muck. Beast licked the water from her own face as Amanda did her best to keep it all out of her eyes. When it was time for body wash, Amanda helped to scrub her back, instructing her on how to do the rest - an improvement on this process for the pair of them since Wendimoor; things didn't get _dirty_ there, not the way they did in the Real. Beast was still learning.

When Amanda was satisfied with the state of her friend, having brushed away the knots of her hair and shown her how to clean her teeth again, she smacked Beast on the butt and shoved her out; "Alright, now scoot. My turn."

Stepping under the showerhead herself, Amanda heard the door to their compartment slide open almost immediately and swivelled in horror; "No! Beast! Put some clothes on first!"

The familiar sound of a scuffle erupted beyond the door, and Vogel's laugh rang out - delighted. Amanda sighed, happy knowing he would get the wild-one dressed, after a fashion. So, she slid her head back under the water and closed her eyes. The downpour falling across her body was heavy with warmth, and as she pressed her hands to the wall she just took a moment to let it flow over her; drip from her arms and slide over her knees, pool between her toes and beat against her neck.

* * *

Amanda heard movement behind her, as the water continued to run, and she glanced over her shoulder to see what it was. Martin leant against the wall, a towel wrapped around his waist as he watched her. Hair slicked back with wet, he crossed his arms over his toned chest. Blowing water from her lips, Amanda returned to shampooing her sodden hair. She felt him watching the bubbles run over her back and down her ass, around her thighs and off into the drain.

"We're not homeless." He said, after a while of just _watching_.

"No." She agreed, they had a _home together_ and it was a good one, "But we still have to pee in bushes and wash in rivers." 

"You don't like that?" He asked it even though he knew the answer, probably had the same one himself.

"I like _us_ more than I dislike not getting to have a regular shower, Martin." She rinsed her hair and reached out to start washing it again, but his hand stopped her as he stepped up behind.

"You'd tell us..." He muttered, taking the soap and rubbing it into her hair; she let her eyes fall closed at the sensation of his fingers behind her ears, "if you were unhappy?"

A quiet affirmation in her throat was all she managed as he pulled her hair back tightly to squeeze the bubbles through it. Then he was pushing her head under the water, his digits dragging against her scalp as he rinsed her off thoroughly. Her body buzzed under his touch, static danced on her skin at the proximity of his body, and Amanda brought her hands up against the wall again to stop herself from stumbling.

But suddenly his fingers balled up at the roots, and he was yanking her back out from under the stream, her breath catching as her back slapped up against his bare torso. His towel was gone, and even though he wasn't hard yet, she could feel that he was well on his way as he rubbed along her like a _fucking feline_.

"What was that?" His voice grated, with his teeth at her ear, and the _feel_ of him _... This is what he likes;_ it went straight to her cunt.

 _Fuck;_ "Yes."

He pulled her hair again, affirming his grip as his other hand slid up her stomach against the flow of water, roughly explored her chest, then settled in at her throat to _squeeze_. He didn't let go, so Amanda didn't breathe. Only when she quietly choked against his fingers did he let up; the surge of sensation her body threw out as she inhaled made her whine - and she slapped a hand to her mouth to stifle it. They weren't alone in the woods _here_.

"This won't take long." He whispered, and she could feel his adams-apple moving against her shoulder, "Touch me."

Water rained down across her chest as Amanda reached between her legs and grabbed his semi. He started throttling her airway again as she stroked the head. He lapped at her neck and ground his hips into her touch as she took hold and pumped him rough and fast; feeling him harden, that _shape_ rearing up in her grip. His skin against her back was hotter than the water beating down on them as she stroked the length of him against her pussy. Whimpering into her own palm, the head of his incredible cock rubbed up against her clit like it was _made_ for it. She was already _throbbing_ \- how was that even _possible_? She felt herself going dizzy, and his hand came away from her neck as he shoved her head down and used it to pull her ass back towards himself, instead.

Amanda's hands flew to the wall, to stop herself toppling over, the shower spraying her spine. Even on tip-toes Martin was still too tall for this, and she could see him bending his knees when she looked down passed her own naked body. Then he yanked her hip back in one heavy motion and the _feel_ as her pussy stretched open for his invasion made her mouth fall agape. She heaved against the side of the bus feeling herself twitch around him, felt his fingers loosen and re-tighten in her hair.

When she could look around without her eyes rolling, she stared over her shoulder at him hips squirming. Water was flowing down her back to where they were joined, and his hand swept over her ass-cheeks to _squeeze_. He _wasn't moving,_ why wasn't _he moving_?

His eyes snapped to hers and he forcefully pulled her head back, his other hand sliding forward to push down on her waist and make her _arch_ ; "Fuck me, Drummer. Slowly."

Reaching for the hand on her waist, for something grounding, Amanda did as she was told. She squared her feet on the floor, as water splashed around them, and pulled herself away from him at a snail's pace, until he was almost all the way out, then worked him back up just as steadily. The shape of him hit _differently_ this way round, it was like his cock followed the curve he was making with her body, wriggling in _deeper_ than it did before.

Tightening her grip on his fingers, she started again, still ever so purposefully bit by bit - absolutely entranced - almost out. She started to push him back in, but this time he rolled his hips forward to meet her - _so fucking hard_ \- and she ripped her hand from the wall to cover her mouth, praying to the powers that be; _please don't let the bus fucking move_.

"More." He growled as her legs shook, and she once again _did_ as she was _told_.

Breathing harshly, she pulled away staggeringly little by little, got him almost all the way out, then let her pussy spread back over him. Yanking her hair, he came in to meet her again, so sharp and slick, she dug her nails into her cheeks until they stung. He got her to do it again, and again; got her to fuck him maddeningly slowly until she _had_ to let go of her mouth just to search of more sensation.

She kneaded her own breast harshly, and Martin took the cue to reach around with the hand from her waist and start circling her clit rough and intentional, almost cruelly, with two fingers. With a shocked hiss, Amanda's thighs snapped together around his hand. They managed to keep the pace slow around his cock until she was _cumming._ Her pussy uncontrollably squeezing and sucking at him as her back visibly rippled, and she tried not to _cry_ from the pleasure of it. _Everything_ was _twitching_.

Suddenly he ragged her back up flush against his chest by the scalp, the shower pouring over her stomach. The _heat_ of him pressed up against her flesh again was overwhelming, as well as the rub of his beard against her shoulder, and his heavy breath against her ear. Her cunt clutched and shook around him. Quickly letting go of her hair, Martin took hold of her throat and clamped down, if there'd been a mirror he would have seen her eyes roll. He slipped his hand away from her snatch to pull and lift one of her legs, holding it against her tummy by the arm, his thumb found her clit again and dug in. He'd changed the position so readily and rapidly, Amanda was still in the throws of orgasm as he started fucking up into her _fast_.

Stuffing four fingers in on top of her own tongue, Amanda stifled any sound she might have made as her body clamped, and spasmed, and begged his dick for all he was refusing to give; utterly unable to comprehend his sudden change of speed. Her nails dug so harshly into her own tit she thought to bruise it. As the world went hazy because of his vice at her throat, Martin continued to push and push, so that even when her orgasm finally ebbed, another was already rolling in like a storm behind it. She whined around her knuckles desperately as the edges of her vision started to fade.

"Come on," His was a distant whisper, right in her ear, strained and breaking as her hands fell limply to her sides; "fucking cum for me-"

"Oh... _fuck_." And she did.

She came with an explosion of numbing vision-spotting pleasure, Martin burying himself as far inside of her as he could get, pumping into her cunt every drop of himself he could offer. The burst of red as he fed was something she felt tingle through her toes up to her fingertips.

As air flooded her lungs again, Martin relaxing his grip, Amanda heaved and shook and spasmed in his arms. Stupidly she thought _; I think I need a little sit down_. Then she was giggling at herself _; like a toddler after a trying time_ ; and Martin was pulling his softening cock out of her terribly gently. Turning her to face him, he slipped her arms around his neck as he pressed her against the wall and started to kiss her, his bleached hair under the showerhead. His tongue worked in, with his chest hard against her own, and he started the process of calming her.

Breathing coming back under _her_ control, Amanda felt his fingers slipping carefully between the oversensitive folds of her cunt and pulled away to look at him. She watched that same hand come up to his mouth, and he licked away the juices from it, then came back in to kiss her; she could taste the salt of him. Her hands dug into his hair, trying to bite at his lips as she bounced on the balls of her feet utterly overwhelmed by the sheer _presence_ of him.

He was smiling against her teeth as he breathed into her mouth; "Sometimes I wanna make you cum so hard, and for so long, you forget how to _breathe,_ Drummer."

She swallowed hard as he finally stepped out of her space, with a peck at the nose, and went to collect his towel.

"Clean up." He winked from the cubicle doorway.

* * *

Amanda emerged, fresh as a daisy into the midday sun, pulling on her smelly denim jacket; _we need to do some laundry_. The shower-bus had emptied but for her, so she looked around for the guys and spotted them a ways off. They were on a collection of fold-up chairs gathered around Gripps, who was sat with shirt in hand, in the process of getting his hair cut by a terribly fashionable black man with an infectious smile. The Rowdy 3 saw her and waved.

As she wandered over, Amanda pulled the bandana Vogel had missed from her back pocket. Reaching them, she brought it around to tie over Beast's strange forehead, and to hide her impossible ears. Crouched in her chair rather than sat in it, their damply-rainbow-haired woman grinned as Vogel came at her face with a pink Sharpie. Amanda balked.

"Hey, no, we just got clean. You can't-" As she hurried to stop him, she saw Vogel was already mid-way through drawing a trio of flowers on Beast's cheek and sighed, "Actually, you know what, that's adorable. Carry on. I hate you both."

Vogel laughed, adding petals. Martin pulled her into his side, and Amanda leaned against him with all her weight as he ran fingers up and down her hip happily. Gripps seemed to be relishing in his hair falling away, almost back to his old clean shave; his quiet happiness encompassing them all. If Martin had asked him whether their lifestyle made him happy, Amanda had no doubt he would have said exactly the same thing she had; _it isn't perfect, but I don't remember ever being this_ ** _happy_**.

Glancing around, Amanda noticed Martin's hair was freshly shaved, and Vogel had had his drying undercut tidied; it was something they usually did for each other, and they often made a messy job of it with a cheap battery-powered electric razor. Pulling away from Martin, Amanda swiped the bright blue sharpie from the pack Vogel had shoved into his back-pocket.

Grabbing the side of his head, she started drawing zig-zags along the skin under Vogel's fresh cut, feeling like a mischievous kid with chocolate scented gel pens, making him look like lightning. By the time she'd coloured in her masterpiece and moved around to do it on the other side, Gripps was finished and the barber was offering her a trim too. Happily she switched places, taking a seat. The barber never stopped smiling, even if he didn't say much, and he started to work out Amanda's mess of hair.

Gripps pulled up a chair right in front of her, stealing a purple pen directly out of Vogel's grasp, and took up Amanda's hands. Carefully, he circled every one of her fingers perfectly at the first knuckle, then coloured them in down over the tips; Beast wanted to join in too, so she took a black pen and started making big sweeping lines across Gripps' bare back merrily. And as the Barber shaved out Amanda's undercut, he watched the Rowdy 3 drawing on each other with an oddly touched expression. 

It was incredibly relaxing to let someone who knew how, cut Amanda's hair, and when the Barber had finished, the Rowdy 3 all shook his hand gratefully. He left them to their own devices, as more folk who looked as messy - if not messier than them - continued to pour into the pop-up care centre. Amanda watched the volunteers around them greeting and welcoming so _many_ people, and even though it hurt to know something like this was needed - even by them - she found herself so grateful that it was there. They would have been washing soap-less in the sea without it. 

Not until Martin's hand was pushing her head sideways to drag a red sharpie up under her shave, had Amanda even noticed him moving. She felt him writing and knew what he had spelled:- 'ROWDY'. Kissing his work as he finished, he grinned as she rolled her eyes. Roughly she grabbed him round the neck and pulled his face into her lap.

"Vogel!" She laughed as Martin pretended to struggle, and the other Rowdy was on him in an instant, drawing lines up the side of his head - orange, green, purple, red; all in a spray spread wide near his face, but narrowing to a single point behind his ear.

When their work was done, Amanda released him, and he looked them all over with a genuinely affectionate grin; "Well, now that we all look like damn hippies..."

* * *

The Panhandle was brimming with people in the early afternoon, as the Rowdy 3 dropped off their variously acquired goods at the Van, keeping an eye out for Cross. They'd gotten food for the girls, and beer for them all, smokes for the inclined and some candy to pass the time; a few places were left in their wake in a state of disrepair but that was always the case - it's not like they had any _money_. Amanda stashed a gift for Beast under one of the seats before looking over their mess of crap with fresh eyes.

"We need to air out the Van, man." She sighed, suddenly noticing the torn up interior.

"Wanna get it _detailed_?" Martin teased, grabbing one of the beers and heading off into the trees, the Rowdy 3 following him - rowdily.

"Yeah, or maybe we could wash our shit so it doesn't just smell like fart?" She called before sliding the door shut and chasing after them.

They wandered the park aimlessly, noisily play-fighting about nothing and something; unwilling to admit out-loud that they just wanted to track down Cross, so instead were jabbing and smacking and kicking each other like dickheads. When they saw him across a wide swath of grass talking to some buskers - and he gave them a wave upon their catching his notice - the nervous combative energy dissipated. The Rowdy 3 sprawled out across the grass with relief, soaking up the sun and waiting.

Amanda lay on her belly pulling apart stems, watching the buskers with interest. Their clothes were old, cheap, worn through to threads in places; their hair was matted and weird; and on their faces she saw tattoos that had something making sense to her that never had before...

Cross had a crude circle scratched into the skin around his eye, none of the other Rowdies had anything like it; tattoos, sure, but nothing so simple, so prominent, so rudimentary - and certainly not on their faces. The buskers, though, had lines etched directly across their cheeks, had strange shapes and little symbols, even dots in patterns around their eyes. Cross didn't look out of place next to any of them.

He didn't just grow up _seeing_ them, after all, he was one of them.

* * *

The Laundromat stood empty but open, its lights dim as it stood unmanned so close to midnight. The Rowdy 3 burst in, with _at least_ half a dozen bags full of crap, scrambling around to claim machines and screaming at each other dramatically; a collection of kids reluctantly doing chores and criticising each other for how they were doing it. The Van stood open, half way up the side-walk as Beast chucked out more crap and they argued over who would have to go and get it.

Martin swung his baseball bat like he was going for a homerun, but slammed into the change machine over and over instead, until it gave up its guts and spewed quarters all over the floor. When everything was inside that they could shove into a machine, the Rowdy 3 stripped down to their skivvies and chucked that shit in too. Scooping up quarters, detergent of an extortionate price was coaxed out of the vending machines, and a competition soon began to see who could get their washer pouring first (Gripps won). Then the chaos was done, and they were sitting on benches watching their clothes swirling round. 

"You get me those skins?" Cross asked, and Gripps handed over a pack from where they had been stuffed behind his ear, "I got us some kush."

Rolling a joint as the metal around them rumbled, Cross itched at his ears looking depressingly filthy beside them all. Amanda had checked; they could take him to the library in the morning, and the buses would still be there. He wouldn't have to be the only one who didn't get to feel _clean_.

Vogel was digging around above the dryers as Beast bounced about him trying to spot what he'd seen. Just in time for the spliff to light, he pulled out an old-ass antennae radio. The thing even turned on! Gripps helped him tune it, but the only station that worked was playing _country_. It was better than nothing, so they set it aside to play to itself. 

The roll-up was passed up and down the room as they sat awkwardly in their underwear, until Amanda abruptly asked a question that she felt was particularly pressing; "Where the _fuck_ were any of your families?"

They turned to look at her curiously, not sure where the thought had come from - but she had been thinking about it for _hours_ and she didn't know what to do with all the _anger_ she felt for them.

"Gobbo you were twelve, like, _where_ were your folks? Why did Blackwing find you?" She snapped, taking her toke on the spliff and passing it on, pointing at Cross as she did so; "Then _you_ , you were hitchhiking _before_ you were taken, so how old were you, my guy? How old were you?" 

"We picked him up on the side of the road when he was thirteen." Martin answered honestly, not expecting her to leap to her feet.

"Right, and y'all are the same age!" She pointed to Cross and Gripps before looking to the oldest Rowdy, "Which means you lot started tooling around together when Martin was what? Seventeen?"

The joint made it to the end of the bench, and started working its way back down as she paced, absolutely furious about where her mental math had taken her. Her Pararibulitis had isolated Amanda, not only from the world, but from her family - who never visited because they all felt _guilty_ about _money_. She got it, it sucked, but she wasn't _a kid_ when it started. She hadn't grown up alone. There had been _Todd_ , and her parents... for whatever that was worth.

"Why weren't you with... _anyone_?" She asked desperately and the silence dragged as they all looked at her ever so sadly.

"Who do you think were the first people we ate from?" Gripps finally sighed passing her the joint at the end of his turn, "Nobody has ever been as cool with it as _you_."

She blinked once, twice, took a drag and passed it on; "So... they what? Abandoned you?"

"Foster Mom kicked me out of the house." Martin shrugged.

"Dad tossed me out of a car." Cross sniffed.

"They gave me to Blackwing." Vogel muttered.

"Gripps?" Amanda pressed when he remained silent.

"I ran away." He scratched at his freshly shaved head, "My parents wanted to give me to Blackwing, they thought they could _help_ , but I got scared and I- I ran away."

Amanda sat back down on the bench, her knees bouncing madly as she collated this new information, truly beside herself.

"... the fuck?" She hissed under her breath, rubbing at her hair before looking them all over, the world getting a little dodgy as the weed came in; "You guys know- you understand, right? That I would never- I couldn't- I won't ever _leave you_ like that?"

"You proved that already, Drummer." Martin blew out a ring of smoke and the joint moved along the line again.

"Right back at you." Cross agreed, Vogel and Gripps nodding with him, " _This_ is a family. Whatever the fuck we were in before this? Doesn't fucking matter, man."

* * *

The clothes had been swapped from washers into massive industrial dryers, heat pouring out of them as they span. The Rowdy 3 worked to fold up what they'd already been through. At the prep stand they made a chain, everything ending up back in the bags almost neatly since Gripps was the one on 'packing'. Still all in their underwear, the conversation between them all was slow and pleasant, the kush having hit just right for them all.

"Nobody's seen _any_ of them in town for a while." Cross explained, spreading out a shirt from the mad pile Beast had chucked at him.

"Is that odd?" Amanda asked as Vogel took and folded the shirt in half width-ways and slid it to her.

"Yeah. It is, man." Cross pulled out the next thing, some pants, "Apparently they've been heading East- The state hoppers think there's been _none_ this far West for _weeks_."

"Does that mean something's happening?" Gripps' tone was thoughtful as Amanda folded in the sleeves of the shirt and passed it on to Martin.

"Probably." Shrugging, Cross' eyebrows knit together, "Those guys you saw me talking to? They said there's one of 'em further south who doesn't travel 'round no more. Holed up in a trailer-park out by some cross-country track. Goes by 'Book'... but if the rest of 'em are on the move, why wouldn't they be?"

"Those guys give you directions?" Martin asked folding the shirt in half one more time and handing it off to Gripps, who packed it, Cross nodded; "Then we check it out. Either way we get answers, right?"

"Yeah." Cross laughed uncertainly shaking out the pants then moving them on, "Yeah, I guess."

"You did good, bud." Vogel offered folding the pants in half at the crotch.

The next hour or so went by in much the same comfortable fashion, until they were piling back into the Van to find somewhere less outwardly criminally obvious to park up for night.

* * *

The next morning, Amanda took Cross to get a shower.

On their way out of town the Rowdy 3 tore up the Van's interior behind a shitty gas station.

By the end, the inside had never been cleaner.


	7. Fell Off the Map - Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plot!  
> That speculative lore thing.  
> Freight-Hopping

The further south they travelled, the hotter everything got. The land grew sun-scorched and rocky as cacti and brush sprang up along the roadside. The Van sweltered with only broken vents to combat the heat. Motorists drove by horrified at the sliding doors hanging open as they barrelled down the highway. Shredding metal music poured out over the haze rippling from the tarmac, and the Rowdy 3 argued over who had eaten the last of the twizzlers _already._

"Hey," Martin whispered and Amanda leaned over the seat to hear him as he turned them onto a feeder, "it was me."

Stifling a laugh as she looked out of the window, an empty beer can flew through the doors instead of hitting Vogel on the head. There was a snake in Amanda's stomach as she watched the open road stretch out before them, as far as the eye could see. It was a sinking sensation, a drowning wave. The further they pressed into the budding desert surrounding them, the hints of civilisation on the horizon so distorted by the sun they couldn't even be believed, the more utterly unreal she felt. For hours they trundled on, not a car passing them by, not a bird in the sky, only a single rusty gas station to break up the monotony.

When they hit a cluster of buildings that she _knew_ was close to what they had come to find, the Rowdy 3 were discouraged by the sea of ruins before them; homesteads collapsing, bars barren, the remains of stores standing as monuments to a failed and forgotten town. Amanda thought she was going to vomit; memories of stage-fright when she was six years old in a Thanksgiving play was all she could compare it to. There was a pulsing behind her ears that made her moronic.

Coming up on the trailer park for which they were destined, it also appeared dishearteningly abandoned as they pulled in. A half dozen empty shells leaned over the road, some having fallen off of their cinderblock foundations, sun-bleached and rusting away to nothing. As Martin removed the screwdriver from the ignition, an intense silence fell, broken only by the distant disembodied sound of windchimes on the breeze; it was so unsettlingly _alive_ for a place that seemed so lifeless. 

* * *

The Rowdy 3 emerged from the Van gradually, unsure of what they were looking for. A dog, sandy in colour and in cleanliness wandered over to them lazily. They stared at it, and it stared at them. Until it seemed to grow tired of all the staring and wandered away, deeper into the park. When it turned back to look at them, Beast nodded as though she heard someone talking and followed after the mutt. The rest trailed behind. Amanda felt lost, spinning in place hoping someone would hand her a map.

Chimes continued to jangle and thud melodically, out of sight but closer than they were before. They rose to a discordant din as a particularly strong breeze swept through the park. It became clear there must have been dozens of sets _somewhere_ , made of wood, metal, even glass. The dog took them between a tightly packed trio of toppling trailers, their walls so warped and rusty they were almost like passing under stone, and beyond them it was an oasis of colour.

Stumbling back out into blinding sunlight, the dog sat and watched the Rowdy 3 calmly. There were trees, but the leaves were made of melted plastic bottles and squashed soda cans; there were flowers but the petals were made of shattered glass and broken china, there was grass, but it was just a patchwork of different kinds of astro-turf; a fountain even sprayed up delicately, but the water was shredded plastic bags, blowing in the wind. The sensation of utter displacement was settling deep in Amanda's bones.

A woman emerged from a well-kept trailer on the other side of this surreally unreal garden. Leaning heavily on a cane, she looked out at them in silence, her skin hard and her eyes harder. She could have been in her forties, or her twenties, maybe even her sixties. So much of her seemed older than it should have been, and others much, much younger. Her hair was half a matted mess sticking up on one side, almost like a devil's horn, and the other half was simply missing; not shaved off, no, it just did not seem to grow. Across her left cheek she had a crude tattoo; an unfinished circle, open at the top, with a line passing through it at the bottom.

"Can I help you?" She shouted in a heavy southern twang, which was odd considering they were nowhere near Texas.

"Are you 'Book'?" Cross called back, eyes squinting in the sunlight.

"The Third." She nodded, fidgeting uncomfortably with her cane, "Do I know you?"

"Maybe." Martin stepped into the garden, the dog baring its teeth and growling, he hesitated, "You ever spent too much time locked in somebody else's basement?"

Book lurched back a little in surprise, looked them over _again_ with a more critical eye, lingering heavily on Vogel as her head tilted; "Why are you here?"

The Rowdy 3 looked to Amanda expectantly, but her eyes widened as she suddenly realised, with a wave of nausea, that she didn't actually have an answer to the question. This wasn't a rescue. There had been no visions to get them here, they'd just... done it. Was it a warning? But these people already knew what Blackwing was. _Why are we here?_

A wry knowing smile crept across Book's face; "Don't know?" she started hobbling back towards her trailer, "I guess you're in the right place, then."

* * *

Book's trailer stank of heat, sweat and soldered metal. Every spare bit of space had been filled with trinkets and baubles, pictures and papers. The sheer volume of _stuff_ was insurmountable as she waved them into the cramped corner of her kitchen-come-dining room with a wheelchair folded up against the sliding door. Even from the outside it was clear that the trailer was too cramped to fit all of the Rowdy 3 inside, so Gripps, Martin and Vogel hovered on the porch - still being watched by that serenely calm dog.

As Amanda looked around she continued to feel queasy, and even a little stupid. The walls warped and warbled like they were breathing flesh. She had felt the world be off kilter before, skewed like she'd stepped onto a new angle of reality, but this place was something else. Here it was like reality stopped existing, and she'd stumbled ass over tit into a dreamscape of pulsing shapes and surreal sparkles. She didn't _fit_ here and never could; there was a sickening sense of not-belonging rolling off of every piece of tat, and Beast was touching _everything_.

Amanda and Cross did their best to catch the things Beast knocked over. Book, utterly unperturbed by the disturbances, pulled a six-pack of beers out of her gurgling throbbing fridge, and placed them on the table in the miniscule dining-nook with a wince - her leg turning in a way it didn't agree with. Popping the cap on one of the beers, she took a swig before speaking, and Cross watched her carefully.

"You strangers feel like making yourselves a little less _strange_ , and telling me your names?"

"I'm Cross. That's Drummer. She's Beast." He pointed, then quickly stepped in to take a snow-globe out of Beast's hands and pop it back on its shelf.

"And them outside?"

"Martin, Gripps and Vogel." He responded again as Amanda took a pair of dated sunglasses from a shelf and tried them on, much to Beast's amusement; square green lenses in circular golden frames.

"I'm _the Third Book_." There was an air of exhaustion to the way it was said that both Amanda and Cross caught, glancing at each other, "And when the folk backstage send you signs? Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me; but fool me thrice? Well, I am _not_ a moron..."

Again Amanda and Cross looked at each other, this time in confusion.

Book saw it and sighed heavily; " _Why_ are you _here_?"

"We... We don't know." Amanda admitted hesitantly, a frog in her throat, as she took a glass fish from Beast and put it back on another shelf, "We're just... going with the flow?" 

"I like that." Book's tone was warm at first, but then her expression became weighted, "But it's bullshit, nonetheless. You ain't got no more say in where you go than _I_ do, do you?"

Worrying his lip hesitantly, Cross itched at his cheek, almost mirroring the shape Book had tattooed there. Putting his hand on Amanda's chest, he gestured to her to give him something, and she pulled the 7-11 receipt covered in scribbles out of her pants pocket. He approached Book with Amanda's list, and offered it to her.

"We're looking for you, man." He muttered, "Your Project, I mean."

"You're looking for Gog?" Book blinked as Cross nodded, and she looked down at the symbol Amanda had drawn from one of her visions, the same one that had been etched onto her face.

"What's Gog?" Amanda asked with buzzing ears, and Book appraised her with an abrasively critical eye.

" _We_ are the Project Gog." She gestured broadly to the things around her, then pointed at Cross, " _They_ are the Project...?"

"Incubus." He said quietly, and Book's eyes snapped from Amanda to him in sudden recognition.

"I _do_ know you!" She gasped, "Bigger and hairier, maybe, but still a _weedy_ bunch of fuckers, aren't you? And I ain't one to question when the Universe sends a familiar face my way, but yours are of the sort I thought to _never_ see again. Get- get out of my way!"

Then Book was barrelling by them to the other end of her trailer with a mission in mind.

* * *

Outside the Rowdy 3 crowded back together on the porch, awkwardly listening to Book furiously chucking things and digging through stuff inside her trailer. Until there was an almighty sliding crash combined with a collection of choice expletives. Amanda felt about as ill as Vogel looked, and Book came limping out into the sun with a battered and beaten briefcase that, even in its current state of disrepair, seemed so utterly out of place in its professionalism. She even held a scrunched up bunch of papers in the hand she gripped her cane with. Book tossed the case onto the ground at their feet.

"What is it?" Amanda asked as Martin crouched down to pop the case open.

"'Book' ain't the name my Mama gave me," the woman breathed heavily, digging through the pages in her own hand, "it's something I _earned_."

Amanda looked over Martin's shoulder at the sea of paperwork held within that was, again, intensely professional. There were scientific reports and collections of observations, mugshots and 'subject' descriptions. It was a whole case of information _stolen_ from Project Blackwing.

"Y-you took this?" Amanda gaped, pushing forward to sift through it in awe, and Book nodded with a touch of pride.

"Gog." Book grinned almost manically, holding up a piece of paper from her bundle with that damn symbol on it followed by a wall of partially redacted text, "Before that we didn't have a name. Until _them_. Until _this_. This is what _they_ wanted us to be."

"And what was that?" Martin asked grimly as he pulled out pages full of costings and damage reports.

"Exactly what they wanted _you_ to be." Book's fingers waggled dismissively towards them as she pointedly made for Vogel.

* * *

Scurrying back horrified, Vogel pushed into one of the plastic trees as Book smacked a paper into his chest and held him in place with a balled fist. A different symbol was on that paper, one that Amanda recognised. It was from the clothes Cross, Martin and Gripps had been wearing when she pulled them into Wendimoor; a circle with four stick-man bodies protruding from it, like they shared one head.

It was an image that bothered Amanda; not only did it somehow perfectly embody the Rowdy 3, it also simultaneously utterly missed the point. They didn't share a _head_ , they weren't just passing around the one mind between them, no matter how often evidence would point to the contrary. They shared something else; all their pain and isolation, all their exuberance and violence, all their honesty and idiocy. So was it their heart? A shared soul? _Too poetic, Drummer._

"Weapons." Book nearly spat in Vogel's face as the Rowdy 3 crowded in to guard him, the dog barked as Gripps took hold of Vogel's arm readying to pull him away, and the youngest Rowdy stared at Book wide-eyed and mortified, "I'm not gonna _blame_ you for what they _made_ you do to a kid of the Gog, but that don't mean I- _we're_ gonna forgive."

"He was just-" Amanda started desperately, crouched in front of the briefcase, now behind them all.

"I am aware, even more than you are, of the context of our suffering!" Book interrupted turning on her cane with a flash of fury, "I keep all that shit in my house because we are all pieces of that story, none of it is _mine,_ it is all of the Gog. I am just the Third Book in the archive." Then she was jabbing her cane in the direction of the case, "And according to _them_ we exist to tear down cities, and eradicate civilisations. A weapon of mass destruction. They knew that when you get enough of us together someplace, shit starts to go awry; electrical anomalies, minor earthquakes, small forest fires, a tornado in the sticks. They wanted to _use_ that, focus it... they just didn't know _how_."

Book pulled away from Vogel and hobbled over to Amanda with surprising speed. She snatched a report from the case and held it open.

" _We_ figured out all you've really got to do is _piss us off_." She pulled out a picture of a little boy, tiny and tired, in a clinically clean uniform with the symbol of Gog sewn onto it, half his hair shaved off; Amanda recognised him.

"That's Banjo Kid."

"Uh-huh." Book nodded, glaring at Vogel, then turning back to Amanda, "And the Universe may not like us being together too often, but it _really_ seems to _hate_ losing one of us. I've only seen two Reunions in my lifetime. The first, I was small, I only remember the smell of burning and the feel of being _free_. The second? I was thirty, locked in a cell, watching the walls crack and the ceilings fall in. That same feeling coming upon me, I was going to be _free_."

* * *

Cross stood with Beast hovering behind him protectively as Book, with his assistance, hooked a backpack onto her wheelchair. The rest of the Rowdies huddled a few feet away around Vogel, unsure of themselves, as the dog sat in the trailer doorway and yawned. Their usual response to any outside antagonism was violence, Amanda was surprised at how much they were all struggling to find solid ground to approach this strange woman's anger from. She supposed, even with her, their first attempt at a greeting was to throw a damn brick through her window.

"Are we splitting up?" Vogel asked miserably, and Book sneered as Amanda reached for his head.

"The Gog only come here on their way some place else." Book called over to them, "You don't know why you're here, and by rights neither do I, but I _do_ know wherever you're going next, if you're looking for the Gog, I'm taking you."

"We have a Van." Cross offered, "You can just-"

"I'm not going with _him_." Book snapped, dropping roughly into her chair, and they all knew who she meant; Vogel looked to be on the verge of tears, but utterly unwilling to argue. Amanda was starting to feel intensely alien as she and Martin swivelled.

"I'm not leaving any of my boys." He stated, perfectly clearly.

Amanda started; "If you're coming with us-"

"Look, I don't need _you_ to get anywhere." Book rolled her eyes, spinning her chair quickly forward "If I'm meant to be on the road again, the road will provide for me. As I am sure it does for you." 

Then Book was barrelling by them, her chair working like an extension of her limbs as she passed under the trailers beyond her garden and out of sight, the dog following. The Rowdy 3 stared after her, then at each other, a pool of different emotions flowing between them; Vogel was curling in on himself with guilt, Martin throbbed with indignation, Beast wobbled with anxious energy, Amanda _still_ wanted to vomit, and Gripps was calculating as Cross rubbed at his neck aggravated.

* * *

"I'll stay with Vogel." Gripps offered in the silence, to which they all nodded.

"But that means you're staying _here_." Amanda said with concern, pulling the back of Vogel's neck in as they all huddled closer.

"No." Martin sighed, their shoulders pressing against each others as their heads came down, "We'll follow you in the Van."

"We don't know where we're _going_ , man." Cross pointed out as their foreheads touched.

"So _pick a place_. We'll meet you there." Martin snapped, and he and Cross stared at each other for some time, unable to articulate their discomfort so sharing it quietly.

"Chicago." Amanda threw out, from absolutely nowhere, the word like a burp of indigestion; it didn't make her feel better, "Get to Chicago."

Martin nodded looking away finally from his _friend_ to her, "Cross should go with you."

"Yeah," Cross agreed, "I mean, if you think I'm supposed to?"

Amanda opened her mouth to argue them splitting up at all, but Martin pressed on; "Cross knows what he's doing, he'll keep you safer than any of us could."

"I don't know-" She ground out angrily, feeling about ready to cry in frustration, "I don't know what's going on, like at all. I just- I _hate_ this."

Martin reached out and pulled her to his lips, kissing her brow; "I don't like it either."

"I'm sorry. I made a mess-" Vogel's lip wobbled as he released into the huddle, and the Rowdy 3 all reached for him.

Gripps started as Beast held his hand, "You have-"

"Nothing..." Cross continued.

"To apologise for." Martin carried on.

"Okay? Not to us." Amanda finished, and he nodded as he sniffled, so she kissed him on the faded lightning bolt under his shave.

The Rowdy 3 split, Vogel heading off under the trailers quickly; Gripps kissed Amanda behind the ear, hugged Cross, then followed; Martin took Cross' hand and held it for a moment before shaking it, then reached out to stroke Amanda's cheek. When he reached the trailers, he turned to call for Beast - but the wild-thing didn't shift from Amanda's side. She in fact took hold of Amanda's arm, jutting out her jaw determinedly.

"Looks like she's with you." He called, and then was gone.

Cross, Amanda and Beast stood together silently.

"It feels like..." Amanda licked her lips, "one of those nightmares, where I'm running through high school butt-ass naked, totally _exposed_."

Cross nodded, seeming to understand; "Yeah. It always feels like that, man."

* * *

They trailed the Third Book as she was rolling down the roadside, muttering to herself. The Van was long gone now that they had their bags. When Book realised Amanda, Cross and Beast were jogging to join her, she slowed to match their pace, throwing out her thumb to the road. A car was there in an instant, and Amanda felt her whole body lurch, because she hadn't seen where it came from.

Tumbling forward with manic pushes and shoves into the back seats, Book folded up her wheelchair and chucked it into the trunk. Amanda watched as the driver hardly seemed to understand that he _had_ pulled over, and saw how by the time Book was sat in the car and waiting for him to go, he had come round to his new reality serenely and drove off with a smile. He was a nice man, travelling salesmen, divorced with 3 kids. In the rear-view mirror, Amanda watched the dog sit by the side of the road.

* * *

The car pulled over when Book said so, and the next car was there as soon as she threw out her thumb. They got all the way into Nevada before nightfall. It was sometimes impossible, Amanda thought, how Book did it; they were on completely empty roads, they were in the middle of absolutely nowhere, and as soon as her thumb was up, someone was pulling in to take them further. The more it happened, the more Cross stopped being anxious and started to be excited.

"It was like this the first time." He grinned as they hopped out of a truck at a gas station, "They took us across six states, and we never even stopped, man!"

Amanda smiled down at him from the cabin as Beast jumped, and he held out his hand to Drummer.

"There's no waiting if you're going the right way." Book shook out her wheelchair and sat down heavily, "Did they know about the _kid_ when they _saved_ you?"

Cross hissed through his teeth with a flash of impatience only Amanda saw because he was helping her climb down to the tarmac; " _We_ didn't know about the kid for a _year_. All we knew was he was having nightmares-"

"Let's get some slushies, yeah?" Amanda grabbed the handles of Book's wheelchair and pushed forward into the store without waiting for anyone to answer.

It felt like she was floating away into space, untethered and thirty seconds from suffocation. She didn't _want_ to listen to their anger, directing it at each other instead of where it needed to go. They had all been victims, it wasn't a competition, there was no damnable high ground to find. And this pit in her stomach, as she shoved a bag of chips under her t-shirt, was only widening. There was a void where three other people should be, and Book had made it.

* * *

They wandered down the roadside under the stars sipping on stolen slushies as one of Book's wheels gently squeaked with Beast's pushing. The desert whispered over them, and they could almost feel the world turning under their feet.

Cross took Amanda's hand in the dark, and rubbed a thumb over her knuckles. Resting her head against his shoulder she felt the burn of absent eyes, and distant heartbeats. She looked up at him wondering if he had shared that - the thing he was feeling, alone but still connected. It had barely been one afternoon, were they really pining together for younger and happier days? She smiled at him and rolled her eyes, and he smirked back, squeezing her fingers. 

"Are you going to call down another car?" Cross asked as Beast stopped to take a noisy slurp of her drink.

"Nope. We don't need another car." Book replied, nodding towards the dusty pan in the dried up valley below, a set of lights barrelling through it at an impeccable pace, "We want that train."

The Rowdies stared at it as Book span herself down off the tarmac and into the muck, setting a hurried pace straight down. Amanda looked to Cross in disbelief, but he just shrugged, chucked his slushie and ran - pulling Drummer with him. Beast hurried after them, shouting confused words of protest, but eventually the only sounds above the wind were their feet against the hard cracked ground, their heavy breathing, and Book's wheels. The scrape of metal shooting along track steadily getting closer as they careened into the valley under cover of darkness.

* * *

The train was deafeningly loud as it tore towards them at an incredible speed. Book rolled along at a pace that could indeed impress, but it was never going to match that freighter. Amanda was breathless and getting a stitch as she tried to keep up with Cross. And Beast was fine, Beast was _always_ fine.

"There's a sharp turn to get out of the valley." Book shouted over the din, "It'll have to slow down to go round it. We can hop on."

And she was right, as soon as the train was passing them, 20 cars gone in a blink, it was also slowing down, from a bullet train to a race car, to a galloping horse to a gentle jog. The train was endless, as far as Amanda could tell, dozens upon dozens upon dozens of cars.

Cross let go of her hand as Book pulled a torch out of her pocket and started flashing the cars, to see what they were. The sheer volume and weight of the locomotive passing them by had Amanda's heart racing, and she recognised the containers; she'd always thought they were for transporting goods on ships across the ocean.

"Intermodal." Book called knowingly, "From ship, to train, to truck. We gotta find a _Well_."

Cross nodded, climbing only a few feet up the side of one of the industrial freight cars and peering over the edge, then jumping back off further down the track. Book was stood and shutting down her wheelchair; somehow she hooked it to her shoulders with her backpack. Then she started doing the same thing - albeit much more slowly - up and down they went. By the twentieth car that passed, Amanda was beginning to worry - that lump in her throat pounding with the screeching rails.

"What are you looking for?" She cried out to Cross as he hopped off _another_ one and stormed by her to try again.

"A car with a big enough Well." He shouted, climbing again, "These are all no good, man."

"Why?" Amanda ran to the one next to his and climbed, needing to be moving, helping, doing _something_.

"Not deep enough to hide in." He responded, and though Amanda couldn't see in the dark, she could tell what he meant even by moonlight - the Well on her car was only about a foot deep and even less wide, _one_ of them could lie in it, at best.

Hopping back off, even Beast joined in the strange dance the four of them were making of checking cars. By the time they'd been through over three dozen, Amanda's hands were shaking when she went for more. The train, she was mortified to notice, was also speeding up again.

"Fuck!" Book screeched, throwing herself down from another loser, her torchlight flashing around hectically as she limped on, "We're nearly out of train!"

Amanda was up with Cross on the next two quickly, and she whooped with elation when she saw a big empty space, big enough for all four of them.

She climbed up and swung one leg over and cheered; "I found one!"

"Does it have a floor?" Cross yelled back, trying to hop up and over to her.

"What?" Amanda was quickly climbing into it, utterly elated that she'd helped somehow - that she hadn't just uselessly laid on the floor screaming again-

"Drummer, does it have a floor?!" His voice was panicked as he saw her shadow sinking inside.

Amanda's scream was horrified; _no it doesn't!_

* * *

"Amanda!" Cross' hands yanked her up by the armpits and she clung to him desperately, "There's an edge bar, find it! Find it!"

Her feet scrambling, she kicked against what he must have meant and slammed her feet on top of it. With a hard pull backwards, he had them both over and crashing to the floor away from the freight train, thudding hard into the dirt and rolling with the momentum. On her knees, shaking with adrenalin and horror Amanda could feel the tips of her fingers tearing open _; not now_.

Cross scurried to his feet and rushed to check her, as Beast hopped down next to them again. Overwhelmed with embarrassment, she hated how they both hovered. Amanda's nerves were on fire. Her wrists split open, and her forearms cracked, the skin peeled away to expose bare sinew to the stinging air. She bit her lips to keep from _screaming_.

"Drummer-" Cross was breathless, but she lurched away from him before he could touch her; _not now_.

"Keep looking." She choked, pulling her arms in to her chest and struggling to her feet, she felt her knees rupture and shred; she knew Cross' eyes were still on her, "Keep looking!"

They were gone, and Amanda was left feeling the surface of her face snap apart like the brittle sun-scorched earth. She watched, in the corner of her eye, as the skin peeled away and fell off like old paint. She could see the end of the train approaching.

* * *

"BINGO!" Book's voice rang out, even over the din.

Amanda's eyes rolled with relief as she did her best to run towards the sound, her feet splitting in her shoes, her thighs sloughing apart in her jeans. Beast and Cross dropped down and dashed along the train ahead of her. Book swung her flashlight overhead, and they were soon clambering aboard and dropping into the Well. Hauling herself up last, the flesh on Amanda's fingertips peeled away to just the bone. 

The Rowdy 3 (only the three of them) collapsed on the floor, heaving and breathless as the train kicked up its speed and was soon moving them through Nevada at a dizzying pace. Book flashed her torch over all of them, and hesitated when she found Amanda shuddering against the floor, twitching and coiling up in what was clearly a lot of pain.

"She don't look so good..." Book called over the din of the train.

Cross' hands were on her in an instant, but he yanked away with a hiss, shaking his fingers as though he'd suffered a shock. Not put off, he reached out again, and pulled Amanda up to rest against the wall of the Well. She rocked as her skin tore from her flesh and bundled under her clothes. Settling on his knees over her legs, he covered her from Book's prying eyes. In the torchlight Amanda could see his skin splitting like a broken seam, all the way up his arms, over his neck and onto his face as he cupped her jaw. He shuddered and cricked his neck before ducking his head in close to hers.

"Ready?" He mouthed, his breath hot over the raw exposed muscles on her cheeks and she nodded, closing her eyes.

Book recoiled at the sight of their feed. Cross' bright blue howling consumption buffeted all of Amanda's senses as his nose pressed in against hers, and she gripped his hands. The relief in her nerves crawled up from her toes, danced through her knees, up along her thighs, swirled around her stomach and out through her eyes. The pain melting away to nothing as Cross ate it all up with great heaving breaths. The visions came flooding in, and for a while Amanda was _gone,_ catching glimpses of the truth backstage.

* * *

When the world slammed back in, horrendously loud and shaking, Cross still had hold of her. His eyes roaming her face worriedly, hungrily, waiting for her to come home. She squeezed his hands to let him know she was there, and he pushed in to kiss her roughly, quickly; then rolled away to sit next to her in the dark. Book stared down at them astounded and horrified.

"Missouri." Amanda shouted into Cross' ear as Book started waving her torch around like a knife.

"What was that?" Book cried, "Did- did you just feed off her?"

Cross rolled his eyes and pulled out his backpack, pointedly not answering the question, and dug around in crusty pockets. He retrieved a collection of earplugs and handed a pair to each of the Rowdies. Shoving them in their ears, the train went from a deafening cacophony to a dull but constant throb. Stumbling away to the other end of the Well, Book did the same with her own pair of plugs, from her own bag.

"Don't you fucking come near me!" She screeched, and then her torch was off.

Amanda felt Cross' arm slide over her shoulders in the dark, pulling her in next to his chest as his fingers rested against the pulse at her neck. Reaching forward, she found Beast's arm, brought the weirdling in between her legs; making a huddle of shaking sweaty limbs. There was nothing to see but stars, nothing to hear over the mad din of the freight, nothing to do but wait. Amanda closed her eyes and hoped that by the time day broke, she'd start to feel less like an imposter - because that's what the feeling was, the sickening dread.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was this just a chapter of exposition?  
> I think sooo.
> 
> Guess who has a broken tooth and super intense face-ache during a global pandemic?!
> 
> Y'all should comment more, I seeee youuu 
> 
> x


	8. Fell Off the Map - Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More Freight Hopping.  
> More Speculative Lore.  
> Is this becoming travel fiction?
> 
> Whatamidoing?!

Drummer looked over the lip of the Well to see the sky paling ahead of them, she was exhausted. When she glanced groggily at the coming dawn, the brief snippets of unconsciousness she had found proved to be hardly worth a damn. It had been hours, and trying to sleep on a moving freight train with the banging scraping metal alone, was enough to drive a sane person potty (even with earplugs). So, the unpredictable heavy lurches and visceral bangs had had Amanda kissing any hopes of a decent REM cycle goodbye. 

The train was moving along slower than she had expected, though, and turning her eyes found Book. She saw the Gog was sat on the foot-grates that hung over the edge of their hidey-hole, looking down the train; her backpack and wheelchair tucked in flat to the floor. In the daylight Amanda could see their car held two stacked shipping containers, not openable from their end. She extracted herself from the Rowdy pile, and came up beside Book to follow her line of sight; she couldn't see anything but more freight. Book indicated for her to remove an earplug.

"Still alive then?" She shouted sarcastically over the hissing brakes, and Amanda found herself bunching up her hands into fists defensively.

"It doesn't _do anything_ to weirdos." Is all she hollered back, unwilling to explain further, "What's going on?"

"Crew change." Book explained, "We'll stop for a bit but they won't check the train here. So, this should get us straight through to Salt Lake."

"In Utah?" Amanda felt wobbly again, utterly out of her depth, and had to sit down on the grating.

"You know another 'Salt Lake'?" Book joked, "We'll have to do a switch there, I reckon. You figured out where we're going yet?"

"Missouri." She could finally offer, and Book nodded.

"That's gonna take a few days, but we can get to St Louis this way no problem." Then Book leaned back to give her another one of those code-deciphering glares, " _What are you, lady_? You're not like those boys, that's for sure." 

"No." Amanda agreed, she wasn't, but was there a word for what she was? Psychic? Psychotic? "I'm a Witchakookoo."

Book arched an eyebrow, but seemed to decide that was as good an explanation as any, and instead looked over to Cross and Beast still dozing; "That stuff freaks me out, all the blue glowing shit. Fucking 'vampires'! Why'd you let him _do that_ to you?"

Amanda bristled, the Rowdy 3 weren't monsters, even if they were; _not to me;_ "What I do _hurts_ , dickhead."

* * *

Amanda and Cross sat on the edge of the car, her shoulder pressed against the container. They were passing a beer between themselves in the morning sun as she ate a shitty cheese-string by pulling strips off of it with her teeth. It was surprisingly cold in the middle of the desert so early in the morning, and Drummer remembered a distant school lesson about how the absence of clouds meant heat couldn't stick around at night in places like Nevada. Beer, Cross insisted, helped. She wished it would take the edge off of her utterly writhing anxiety.

The train had been at a complete standstill for the better part of an hour. Beast had climbed atop the stacked containers and was keeping watch whilst slurping down an uncooked tin of beans. Earplugs pocketed for the time being, they could all hear her scuffling around above them. Vaguely, Amanda wondered how far out Beast could see, and Book kept trying to get the wild-thing to come down; nobody was listening to her.

Leaning on Cross, Amanda sipped at the beer feeling a little bored; "Can I ask you something?" Cross took the can from her, nodding as he swallowed some, "What do they feel like? My attacks?"

Amanda itched behind her ear and yawned as he gently looked her way, he knew she was tired, and with a thoughtful air he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her in closer; "That _last_ one felt like a bunch of little papercuts. What do they feel like to you?"

"My skin was peeling off that time." No point in sugar-coating it, and Cross whistled at the revelation.

" _Nasty_." Then he shrugged, "They've all hit different, man. That one wasn't so bad... Back on the boat, _that_ felt like my leg was getting blown-the-fuck _off_."

"Yeah." Amanda cringed, recalling his firework kneecap, "I was exploding into pieces. Sorry about that."

Cross grinned, "It's cool, 'imaginary broken bones' and all that. They taste _amazing_ though."

"Like what?" She asked, actually curious, she knew they liked it - whatever it was - but did they have flavour?

"Good hard liquor or fresh lemonade, something sharp, that's the pain. Dandelion-"

"Dandelions?" Amanda laughed.

"Yeah! Like the tea? That's- that's the fear." His eyebrows scrunched as he thought further, "But they also just taste like... you, like _trust_?" Then he was looking at her seriously, in a very Martin-esque way; "I tell you what, Drummer, you're tougher than me. Than any of us I'd say."

"What?" She gawped, "No I'm not. I'm useless- I-"

"No, you _keep going_." His hand slid up from her waist to play with the top of her ear, fingertips rough, and she quieted, "You're... just pushing forward _all the time_. Pararibu-whatsits or not, it's not holding you back anymore, man. You chuck yourself screaming at this shit. I mean, look what you're doing! Sure, you almost rode suicide for a minute last night, but you got the fuck up and tried again. And you _keep_ doing it. You've been doing it since the day you threw that _brick_. Hell, maybe you _are_ the brick." Then he shook his head as though he were in awe, "We ain't _ever_ met anyone _like you_."

Amanda didn't know what to do with it. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry, whether to argue or to just let it ride. So, instead she grabbed him by the collar and pulled his lips down to hers. He wasn't expecting it, and dropped the beer out of the side of the train with a disappointingly wet thud as she wrapped her arm around his back and pulled him down by the neck into her space.

She kissed him quickly, sweetly, desperately at least a dozen times, tasting the beer on his lips, her nose rubbing in against his cheek. Her hand balling into the front of his t-shirt, he just followed her mouth wherever she took him, breathing sharp and fast - sharing air. His lips were chapped, and warm against hers, and his hand came up to steady himself against the container at her shoulder because there really wasn't space on their little ledge.

When she released him, Cross was looming, breathing heavy, eyes on her mouth. She felt him trace along her bottom lip with a finger, and as he glanced up to meet her eyes she saw that _hunger_. Then he was pushing down into her space, and kissing her harder, crowding her in against dusty metal as his tongue slid into her mouth. He stroked at her cheek and caressed her neck as his thumb pressed against her throat to feel her breathing-

"Get a room!" Book threw an empty soda bottle at Cross' back.

He tsked, in no rush to pull away, he instead pecked Amanda's nose, her cheek, her forehead. The train beneath them began making a rumbling anticipatory hiss, and he reluctantly leant back out of her space. Cross looked up to the containers and whistled. Beast's head popped out over the edge.

"We're moving!" He shouted, and she swung down, impossibly fast, back into the Well.

Earplugs. More beans.

* * *

By early morning their train was crawling through the outskirts of Las Vegas. Book was agitated, she kept telling them to hide, cursing the daylight, insisting they might have to hop trains to avoid 'Bulls'; until they picked up speed again and moved on into the city proper. They saw casinos in the distance, somehow less impressive without the glowing neon lights, but still incomprehensibly large; towers of glass in the strangest shapes and pristine-ist of whites. It was the most detached form of sight-seeing Amanda had ever experienced.

Soon they were speeding away and out to the desert again, the sun scorching, and the metal they sat on burning under their asses. All Amanda wanted to do was _sleep_. Book took a shirt from her bag and draped it over her own head like a sheet, and the Rowdy 3 followed her lead. There could be no conversation, it wasn't safe for exploration, so they hunkered down for hours of nothing but wasteland. The sun so bright it made the sand white.

Beautifully desolate.

At some point in the day, maybe just after noon, Book looked up and glanced around, gauged something in the sky and nodded; "Welcome to Utah."

* * *

  
By early afternoon the train was due for another crew change, pulling up in the middle of nowhere as far as they could tell. Earplugs out, the quartet waited, legs aching to be moving but unable to risk a quick walk with so little cover beyond the train. It was water-starved shrubs and hardy weeds as far as the eye could see, nowhere to hide from the 'Bulls' (as Book was calling what Amanda guessed must have been the railways' form of security).

So, to keep herself alert, Drummer hopped over onto the connecting-cars ledge and started doing jumping jacks. A dull creak and an even duller clang as she landed and hupped, landed and hupped. Normally they would have been trashing somewhere for dinner at this time of day; the energy was still sort of there for it, even if the place wasn't right. Cross smiled, clambering up onto the other Well ledge to join her; Beast up above them could be heard doing the same. A trio of star-jumps under the shining sun. Book watched them from beneath her shirt, almost bitterly.

"So..." Amanda's voice jerked as she jumped, "How old... were you... when you started... doing this sort of... stuff?"

"Eight... Or nine." Cross' voice just as wobbly, "A Crusty... picked me up... down in New Mexico... He was like... seventeen... Said I reminded him... of his little brother."

"Did he... take care of you?"

"Yeah... Stuck with me... til he got... busted... jumping freights... in Minnesota."

"That when you... were thirteen?"

Cross nodded; "He hid me... in some bushes... I waited... Gripps found me... there... the next morning." 

"He didn't... come back... for you?"

Cross stopped with a melancholic shrug, a little breathless but not tired, "Maybe he did. Maybe he didn't. Didn't matter, man. Not after the Rowdies."

"What was he called?" Amanda stopped too, not really believing his dismissiveness, but Beast continued to thud above them.

"Nought. " He grinned, " _He_ called me Cross."

Amanda smiled too. Kids were still kids, no matter what they were doing.

* * *

The sun had almost set when they started to see the lights of Salt Lake City in the distance, an ocean of sparkles in the vast falling dark. Book was readying her bag, and the Rowdy 3 were doing the same, but beyond that all they could really _do_ was wait for the train to slow down enough to jump. Too soon and they risked falling and breaking bones in the momentum.

"We need to get off before the yard if we can." Book shouted as they took out their earplugs to hear her, "I'm no good being a limping trespasser!"

They sat and watched the sun sink passed the horizon with a soft purple glow, relieved when the train took a turn along the edge of the lake and had to reduce its speed. It was just enough for them to disembark. Cross helped Book down as Beast and Drummer hopped.

Amanda had never known such a surreal experience as when she hit solid ground again; her whole body vibrated to a rhythm that suddenly wasn't there anymore - the rocking of the train having dug into her bones. It made her stomach knot, and she shook like a sick man in fever. The freight trundled away into the dark, unchanged, and unable to bare witness, it was like they had never been there.

As the air quieted around them, Amanda could hear the sounds of cars in the distance; _a highway_? The sky going from purple to black, Book leant on Cross in the dark as they found their way to a road with her single bit of torchlight. The Gog was clearly grateful for the tarmac once they had it, unfolding her chair and using it like a walker to stretch her legs. The road they had found was a dead one, lit only sparingly by dull orange streetlamps as they wandered sleepily along.

"Once we get to Green Acres," Book huffed, as her hip popped, "we can hop another freight heading south that'll get us to Denver."

"How long will this _take_?" Drummer rubbed her eyes, her head heavy after two days of only cat naps and scorching heat.

"Three more days if we're lucky." Book threw out her thumb as Amanda's heart sank, her arm wrapping around Beast's shoulder for support as a pickup truck rolled to a halt ahead of them (completely out of nowhere).

Book climbed in the front with the driver as the Rowdy 3 clambered into the trailer, flat on their backs and struggling to move. The truck took off, streetlamps strobing through heavy aching eyelids.

"This is fucking exhausting." Amanda breathed, and felt Cross chuckle beside her as Beast whined in agreement, "How was _this_ any easier than the damn van?"

"It's not about _easy_..." Cross called over the rising wind as they pulled onto the highway.

"If you say some hippy-hobo bullshit about being 'free' I'm gonna thump you." Drummer cracked an eye to glare at him and he grinned.

* * *

They crouched in the dark under a heavily graffitied bridge, the amber lights from the street above making sharp angles and strange shapes. There was a freight idling with a couple of Bulls inspecting cars for people just like them. Amanda's whole body ached as they watched the men wander back and forth from the shadows, a hiss building in the lines; the train was readying to take its leave.

"What do we do?" Amanda whispered as Book scanned the cars ahead of them, more intermodal.

"If we don't get on this one, there's no guarantee another will come along till daybreak, and even less of a chance they'll be going slow enough to jump." Book rattled off quickly, struggling to edge a bit closer, "They've been building this baby, that's why they're checking it. We can risk a miss, sleep some place dirty, but I'd just-as-rather keep moving."

"Well-car's no good with them looking." Cross shook his head as the train gave a sudden loud pop and lurched forward, "They'll shine right on us."

The cars started crawling by, illuminated orange. A dozen or more were just like the ones they'd rode into town on, and Cross was right; they observed the containers come out from under the bridge and the Bulls flashing their torches into the Wells to catch hoppers.

"Then let's hope there's a Piggyback to hide under." Book hobbled off in the opposite direction, to where the cars were being plunged into darkness.

* * *

Book heavily gripped Cross' arm and pointed down the line, and as they drew closer Amanda saw flat platforms with absolutely no Wells and sat atop them were semi-truck trailers. Their wheels were bigger than her whole body, and her brain couldn't quite grasp what she was seeing. Limping forward, Book was eyeing the sides preparing to climb on.

"We're not- we're not riding under a goddamn trailer?" Drummer hissed, horrified.

"Only if it has panels." Cross muttered, edging forward himself, at the ready.

"But it's a truck! What- what if it _rolls_?" She felt her head throbbing, and wanted to pass out.

"What if you get hit by a car?" Book snapped back, "What if you're riding a bike and somebody open's their truck door into the street without looking? What if you strap 50 balloons to a chair and float off into space? You can die in the dumbest fucking ways y'know-"

"Not helping!" Amanda had to stop herself from shouting as the train began to up its speed, and thus was getting louder - Beast was bouncing on her heels whining nervously.

"There!" Cross was off into the darkness, heading for a trailer with sheets of fibreglass between the wheels, covering everything underneath from view.

Swearing, mortified, Amanda followed. There was a surge of horror-fuelled adrenalin as she saw Cross slide passed the wheels and it made her forget, for a whole half a minute, how bones tired she was. Book chucked her chair and bag aboard, then clumsily climbed up herself, her co-ordination failing her like it was them. Drummer shoved Beast up, then clambered on last.

The trailer above their heads forced them to crawl as it rattled and shook along the rails. In the disorientating darkness, Cross helped everybody to the back end of the car. The centre of their platform had a slightly raised strip, so they huddled between it and the far panel to wait; hoping it would hide their feet.

At the Bulls inspection point, lights flashed along the front of the car and everyone coiled up, tense as springs. The light carried along the whole length of the trailer, but then they were passing it; rolling on with relief. Drummer collapsed onto her back in the darkness. Under the semi-trailer there was enough room for everyone to lie out flat, not curled up in a heap. It was time for the earplugs again.

Her whole body shook with the rhythm of the train as it picked up speed remarkably quickly. Shutting her eyes to the intimidating black bulk above their heads, the world soon became distant and foreign. In no time at all, really, Drummer had fallen asleep.

* * *

_The truck was careening towards her down the highway, rusted and gurgling. She was begging for it to see her, for it to stop, but it just kept coming. The wheels sparking as rubber blew out. Amanda tripped over her own damn feet and went sprawling across the tarmac. Closing her eyes to the terror, she knew she was about to be crushed under a truck as its wheels buckled over her head._

When her eyes flew open it was bright, and Amanda saw a great metal mass directly above her. There was an almighty screeching lurch, and her feet were pulverised in an instant. Scrambling back she screamed as the trail of blood from her flattened feet followed her up the car. She could see her own bones poking out from the ruined leather of her boots. Her toes throbbed, but they weren't even _there_ anymore. She fell back wailing.

Cross' face shot in above her head and she grabbed at his shoulders, breathing too fast; she was starting to hyperventilate. His expression was absolutely horrified; _does that mean this is real_? He also looked completely exhausted.

"Drummer, what's wrong?" He shouted over the clattering freight.

 _What's wrong?!_ "My feet!"

His fright turned to confusion, to comprehension, then to determination. A bright blue wave of consumption burst between them, and her toes curled in her boots, no longer crushed. Amanda shuddered with ebbing panic, her heart beating against her ribs as her nails dug into his arms. The visions disjointed and almost painful to process. The train was chugging along beneath them, and the sun had even risen. It had been hours, that meant she had been dreaming.

"Well, that's a better than a rooster." Came a disparaging laugh, and both of them shot Book a scathing look where she lay a few feet further down the car, "Oh, poor baby not enjoying the ride?"

Cross pressed a kiss to Amanda's sweaty forehead before falling back on his ass to let her sit up, his expression was dark, deep and tired. Drummer wasn't a morning person, even she could admit to that, but was Book taking the piss? No one could stand, there was a semi-truck trailer over their damn heads, and _someone_ was being an asshole. Beast crawled up beside the Rowdies, wary of their combined irritation.

Drummer railed; "Would you just _fuck off_?!"

In all honesty, she had not expected the reaction she got...

"No, I don't think I will!" Book lurched towards her frighteningly fast, "You know why? Because when all this is said and done, and you get to go back to your shitty van with your vampire boyfriend and his pet kid-sucker, I still have to do _this_. I still have to get home, alone. _Always alone_! What, this is a _trying time_ for you? Well remember, you _chose_ this. You showed up on _my_ doorstep not knowing why, when there's only one thing the Gog are good for. Your great adventure taking this poor, crippled hobo along not working out for you? Do you realise I don't get a _choice_ here? I have no say. I go the way _it_ wants, or I _don't move_." Book laughed bitterly, "I mean, before you'd come along, I'd run out of food. You see, the _foodbank_ wasn't going to take me the _right way_." She banged the floor furiously at Amanda's feet, "I _hate_ this!"

She fell back and wiped her nose with a shaking fist. The Rowdy 3 watched her warily, and she sneered; "I'm _Gog_. So I go where the Universe takes me. Whether I want to be there or not. And if I try to go another way, scream a raging ' _fuck you_ ' to the sky? Let's just say the powers that be ain't got no qualms about _breaking_ legs, or starving a bitch out. So, I'm sorry if you're not enjoying our road trip, truly, but maybe think about how this isn't just a 'trip' for me. It's _this_ way, or no way when it comes to the Gog. And not _all_ of us are happy with that. Alright?"

In the tense semi-silence that followed, Amanda nodded; _why the fuck are we_ ** _here_** _?_

* * *

The air in Colorado was cooler, which Amanda chalked up to the fact they were following the River. The landscape was still rocky and full of more brush and bush than anything else, but every now and again there were some truly magnificent bursts of green. The track curved and coiled many times over, often bringing the freight's speed to a crawl, and to break up the monotony Cross would jog alongside the track with Beast to keep himself ticking.

A Crew Change happened around mid-morning, and as the machinery fell into silence, the sound of running water was practically melodic. They made a hectic trip to refill their water bottles, as Book sat by the trailer wheels, dangling her feet over the edge of the car and supping a beer Cross had quietly given to her. Upon their return Amanda stood a ways away from the train, watching Beast pull weeds and kick rocks to pass the time. 

"So, what's a 'Witchakookoo' then?" Book asked, breaking the silence that had persisted between them all for _hours_.

Amanda rolled her neck and closed her eyes before answering; "I see things."

"Hm, like what?" Book pressed on, "Is that what that was this morning? You 'seeing' something?"

 _Technically speaking, yes_ ; "No, that's... That's a condition. Pararibulitis. Makes me think I'm on fire, or that I have nails in my hands."

Book grimaced without any real feeling; "Sounds like shit."

"It is!" Amanda agreed turning to look at her and gesturing to Cross who was stood below the Gog by the train, yawning, "That's why I let _them_ eat it. Actually, I have visions."

"Oh?" Book's eyebrows raised, "Like of the future or some shit?"

Drummer thought about this for a moment, "Not _really_. I think they show me more of what's already there. I just couldn't possibly know about any of it on my own."

" _Why_?"

"So I know I'm going the right way, until I'm where I need to be."

"No, I mean, why show you anything at all? What's the point? What good are they?"

"She used them to save us." Cross interjected.

"Really?" Book feigned being impressed.

"And Music Man." He added.

"And is that what you think you're going to do for the Gog?" She was baiting, chuckling as she scratched for more, "Save us all? Is _that_ why you think you're here? What on Earth do you think _you're_ going to save us from?"

"War." Amanda said simply, and wasn't surprised when Book laughed, and laughed, and then laughed some more.

"Honey, no." She sighed with a hand on her chest, "Is that something you _saw_?"

"Not exactly." Drummer was starting to feel like an imposter again, like if Book kept digging she was going to find the hole and all of her insides were going to fall out, "Blackwing... it's back."

Then Book said something that honestly took them all by surprise; "Oh, we _know_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did research for this shit.  
> RESEARCH!  
> ON A SUNDAY!


	9. Fell Off the Map - Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is the Journey to Gog almost over?!  
> God I hope so.
> 
> I was supposed to be here 3 chapters ago.

They hit Denver in the wee hours of the morning. Book was saying nothing, so they made it all the way into the yard with the train coming to a complete standstill before they hopped off. Multiple freights towered around them on parallel rails, some half built, and others without even a locomotive. Book limped away down the length of the train, and the Rowdy 3 followed in silence. She struggled over a coupling, crossing tracks, and tutted when she saw two more intermodal freights. So, they moved onto the next line, then the next, because it was clear the Gog was looking for _something._

When she came upon a series of cars that looked a bit like tanks, big and grey, Book gave a satisfied nod, following them along. They passed dozens of the things before they saw a different kind of car, and this one Amanda recognised. It was what she always pictured when she thought about hitchhikers and train-hoppers; it's what they had found in the railyard behind the diner all the way back in Oregon. No flat platform, or bucket for containers, it was a structure unto itself with a sliding door on the side, latched shut. A Boxcar. 

"We're going to need some spikes." Cross whispered, eying the door, and Amanda was surprised he remembered how to lower his voice after the racket of the last few days, "I'll be back."

He slinked away into the dark, eyes on the ground as, together, Beast and Amanda fought with the latch on the door. Book stood to one side staring off into the distance, and Drummer could only hope she was keeping an eye out for Bulls. They managed to work the side open, loudly, and climb in to find the car blessedly empty. Book hobbled off to a far end away from them and lay down without a word. 

Upon Cross' quick return Amanda learned that when he said 'spike' what he meant was a nail the size of a hammer; "We have to peg the sides open, or they might slide shut and trap us in." 

Nodding, Amanda took one of the two nails he offered, and he skipped back off into the dark. She could hear him working his way round to the other side, where there was second door they needed to get open. Drummer slid her side mostly closed, leaving a gap just big enough to squeeze through, then drove the spike between the door and the jam. She kicked it in some for good measure, and turned as the other door creaked open roughly. Cross pushed until it was wide enough to climb through, then did the same to his side. After he checked Amanda had done hers right, the Rowdy 3 took up the floor at the opposite end to Third Book. 

"How does she know this is the right train?" Amanda muttered as she chucked her bag down to be a pillow and stretched out; Drummer didn't doubt that it _was_ , but Book wasn't exactly in a _talking_ mood. 

"Grain." Cross answered pulling a couple of tins of corned beef from his bag and handing them over, "Those cars further up are Hoppers, they'll be getting filled in Kansas City or Topeka?" 

It was as good an answer as any Amanda sighed. She and Beast quietly opened their tins. Drummer felt grubby, she _knew_ they were sweaty, she was pretty sure they stunk again, and their skin had darkened under the beating sun and the cake of industrial dust. Cross' eyes kept shooting to the open doors as they ate. The Rowdy 3 had made their way across three states in almost as many days, and Drummer's stomach was _still_ writhing, she was _tired_ of it.

"We're not safe are we?" She mumbled over a mouthful of meat. 

"Not until we're moving." Cross nodded his eyes practically black, he was so tired. 

"And how long will that be?" 

All he could do was shrug; "But you should take advantage of the quiet while you've got it, man, sleep." 

Beast scooted her butt round to sit next to him as she pulled more food out of her tin, and her voice was grated but gentle as she pushed his shoulder with her own; "You sleep. I watch." 

Nodding, practically on cue Cross collapsed as though he had just been waiting for someone to give him permission. He was out like a light almost immediately, and the girls giggled. It almost felt like a night in the van, _almost_ ; too many people were missing. Taking each other's hands over his chest, Beast sat back to watch. 

* * *

Amanda woke to a nervous whine in her ear. Blinking dazedly, she was surprised to see the pale beginnings of sunrise creeping through the doors. The yard was still out there too, so they hadn't even moved. Urgently then, Beast shook her. Drummer sat up; she could have sworn she saw torchlight. The wild-thing keened as Amanda became distantly aware of movement outside of the car. She jolted Cross, her hand over his mouth to keep him from speaking.

He looked at the girls groggily for a moment, then came round to the fingers stilling his lips with quick understanding. Drummer nodded in the direction she and Beast were staring, not even daring to blink, and he followed their line of sight. Silently Cross rolled onto his front, brought himself up off the floor, and slinked over against the wall. He crept along to the side of the door as the beam of a torch shone straight onto Beast's face, and the girls scurried.

The crunching scrape of stones hurrying their way was unmistakable as a hand radio crackled, and a man could be heard describing how far down the train they were; 40 cars, apparently. Amanda held Beast to her chest as they panicked in stricken quiet beside Cross. Book was still asleep, not giving even a twitch, and Drummer had the sinking feeling the luck of the Gog didn't work whilst they were unconscious.

With a hand over hers and Beast's mouths, Amanda forgot to breathe as a hand shot into the car and yanked their spike from the door. Were they supposed to attack? Should they run? Cross' body hunched, ready to act either way, but no more movement came, instead...

"Al- Alright," A man's voice called with an air of nervously held authority, "I'm going to need you to step down from that carriage, please."

The Rowdy 3 looked at each other struck dumb, as over in the distance Book lurched up in one quick fluid shift.

The man called out again; "You're trespassing on private property, so... so come on now, out!"

Frozen, the Rowdies stared as Book keeled forward oddly, her hands slapping on the filthy floor and her feet scraping behind her. She was a strange writhing _shape_ , not a person, moving unsettlingly quickly as she slithered to the door. It was only as she drew closer that Amanda realised the Gog still had her eyes shut; _are you even awake_?

"Don't make me climb up there..." Came a quiet whine from down on the tracks, as more stones crunched.

It was almost as though she were in a trance, Amanda thought, as the trio watched Book turn and sit before the door. A shaking right hand came up to cover the left side of her face. Cross hectically tried to hiss at her, but Amanda grabbed his arm to keep him silent. The air was filling up, expanding foam in Drummer's throat, clogging her lungs; _something's happening_. The side of the car opened loudly as the man outside shoved.

The first and _only_ thing he saw was the Third Book, sat like a monk, sat and sleeping; "Ma'am-"

Book pitched forward over him, the sound of a dozen whispering voices behind her own as she declared, rather strangely and with a great deal of sarcasm; "These aren't the droids you're looking for, dude."

The hand she held to her face shot forward and smacked him straight up the forehead; he staggered back astounded, then vacant, then jovial. Amanda felt the pressure in the air rip away towards him. He was old, a little tubby, and not a Bull - just some unlucky worker on the line who caught more than he bargained for.

He reached for his walkie-talkie with a distant detached smile; "All clear down here, yeah, my mistake, there's nothing."

"What the-" Amanda whispered as they heard him hobble off down the line, but the Rowdy 3 recoiled in unison as Book swivelled on them.

Her eyes were _insane_. The whites weren't _white_ anymore, they were bright orange, and there was no iris, just pinprick black pupils staring right at them. They looked like a monsters eyes. The freighter made a familiar anticipatory hiss, ready for movement.

"You shouldn't be forward-facing, idiots." Book and her dozen voices criticised before she was collapsing back in a heap with a thud.

* * *

Kansas was _green_ , beautifully, wonderfully green. Plains of grass spread out as far as the eye could see, and what wasn't green was golden. Trees didn't just dot the landscape, they lined it, edging whatever made up the endless strips of farmland or open road. The Rowdy 3 sat with a door spiked wide, and watched as tractors trundled and crops rustled in the wind. Sometimes they even saw the serene shadow of clouds over the fields, passing on like undulating waves. The deeper into the state they went, the more vibrantly green it got.

Amanda could admit that it was an unusual peace that filled her as she saw the world go by, Cross and Beast both holding her hands. She could see how the times they had spent stood in the sweltering sun, enjoying each other's company, were more heart-warming than a single conversation with her brother Todd had been in the last a decade. Understood that the silences they'd shared, and the landscapes they'd seen were fulfilling simply in their strange distance from 'normality'.

Drummer missed _he_ r reality, though, she missed the _Van_ and the people in it. She missed sleeping in piles and seeing the world through dirty windows over a gurgling gnashing engine; she missed the radio and all the shitty channels they were forced to listen to, interspersed with the rare good ones. The trains were definitely _not_ her thing, but Amanda _knew_ she could never go back to living in a lonely empty house again, not when she had the open road and the Rowdy 3 at her back.

Her life had been wasted screaming into a void, surrounded by other peoples lies and agonising guilt, her very existence confined by her own anxiety and shame. She was sick. She _was always going to be sick_ and the Rowdy 3 knew that. The Rowdy 3 also _didn't care_. No, actually, they _did_ care. They cared about _her_ , and not _in spite_ of what was wrong, but _because_ it was something she could never fix. That strangeness was always going to be a part of her, of them. And for the first time, since Pararibulitis once told her that her face was melting off, she wasn't upset. She could take it, because she knew _they_ would. She wasn't screaming alone anymore.

Cross had been wrong, though, the train wasn't filling up once it _got_ to Topeka or Kansas City; it was filling up on the way. The freight stopped at every other small town, outlet and silo gathering grain into its multitude of Hoppers. The storage facilities were mind-numbingly huge, the Elevators pouring goods in by the tonnes. The Rowdy 3 could only eat their food and drink their water, and hide when they thought they had to.

Behind them Book slept, and they didn't know what to do about that.

* * *

In the early evening their freight-train came in to Topeka, clouds dark overhead, and there was a heated game of roshambo to see who would have to wake up Book. She had, worryingly, spent the whole day unconscious. Cross lost (best out of 7), but as he reached over to touch the Gog she sat bolt upright with a gasp - making them all jump.

Ordinary eyes again.

* * *

The swap over in Kansas City was remarkably fast. As the sky broke, releasing torrential rain upon the city, the four of them clambered out of the Boxcar and down onto the tracks. Book was a tumble-weed of bat-shit energy as she dashed clumsily after a passing freight, rattling on with even _more_ Hoppers. Her legs were wobbly and her hands flew around erratically, trying to keep herself balanced. With an excited whoop she grabbed a ladder and swung up, dangling from the bars.

"Can you feel that?" She howled sharply as the Rowdy 3 chased after the train, "We're close!"

She scrambled aboard and Cross joined her on the back of the Hopper. Instinctively the three of them had been giving Book a wide berth; they were all weirdos, but they sure as hell didn't understand Book's flavour. Beast and Amanda quickly clambered onto the rear of the Hopper behind, where Drummer found it incredibly awkward to hide. Only a small set of holes at the tapered base of the tank could be used to conceal, and even they would only fit one person inside comfortably - uncomfortably two. It was a blessing, then, that Beast was fond of such cramped impossible spaces. As the forest-thing balled up in one of the holes, Amanda did her best to find a position that didn't hurt in more than two places. The thought of Cross and Book having to accommodate his height and her bad leg made Drummer grimace. There was a small well they could sit in eventually but, until they were back out in the country, it was too exposed. 

As the rain poured, Amanda retrieved a shitty hoodie from her bag and pulled it over her head. The steady wet clattering on sturdy metal around her sounded like windchimes, but she could only feel the vibrations - a good thing really, because she probably couldn't have dealt with the _deja vu_. Watching the rain smudge the muck across her hands, the edges of her nails brown with dust, the purple fingertips Gripps had given her had almost completely faded away.

The train dragged them out into the sodden beginnings of a miserable sunset and Drummer could taste ozone as she watched the clouds billow and roll, grey and angry. The more she stared the more she saw the circle, though. They weren't blowing by, the clouds were pulling in for miles around, somewhere further East, right where they were headed. She swallowed, having seen clouds move like that only _once_ before; in the haze after a feed. They were in tornado country...

* * *

The world was unreal again as lightning flashed and the wind howled. Drummer was flying high as she watched the ground _breathe;_ the open fields rising and falling with heaving inhales as the water nourished it to the core. And though night had fallen, the storm overhead lit up the world like an angry god throwing bolts after ungrateful men. She wanted to be running, screaming, moving, flying. She had never felt more strange in her life. She didn't know what time it was, she didn't know where they were, she just knew it was time to get _off_.

Grinning from ear to ear, she shoved Beast up on top of the Hopper, the pair dashing along it with the relentless wind at their backs. Surfing, reckless and moronic, Amanda skidded to the end and dangled over. Lightning flashed, and she saw Cross staring up at her horrified.

"What's cookin' good lookin'?" She shouted over the inexorable din.

"Get down!" He gaped as another strike ripped through the air and in the flash Book emerged from the holes to look up at her.

"They're here, aren't they?" Amanda called out to the Gog, gesturing wildly to the sky.

Clouds above them were moving in a maddening swirl, charged and terrifying, reaching so high they could have been brushing the edges of space. The spin of the sky was dizzying as thunder crashed and the wind scoured the earth like it was made of sand. Drummer pointed towards the eye, as it started coming down with perilous sparks writhing at its centre somewhere within their very sight. The Third Book's grin was as wild as her own; _time to be free_.

The sky exploded overhead, the heavens splitting as a bolt of lightning etched its jagged way down to earth. The incredible sight was burned into their retinas as it screamed ahead of them, the deafening thunder so visceral they felt it in their bones. The train gave a violent unexpected shake as the strike came down near the rails, and Cross cried out as Amanda fell back with the sudden change in momentum. Beast caught her and shoved Drummer flat against the Hopper with her as sparks flew from wheels beneath; brakes were slamming on.

"Drummer?!" Cross screamed, because he could no longer see her, holding tight to the ladder as the freight came careening to a halt.

Amanda scrambled forward and flung herself down the ladder, the rain lashing her face as she hit solid ground and reached out for Beast to follow. Cross slamming into the rocks beside her, grabbed for her face as it all lit up again. The panic in his eyes couldn't calm the electricity in her nerves as he furiously kissed her, his hands shaking around her ears. When she shoved him back, Drummer was still grinning. She pulled Beast up into a piggyback and ran off into the dark, screaming.

She knew the town, the roads, the trees, the dirt. Hiking Beast up her back, Amanda practically skipped down onto the highway as Book whipped out her chair and quickly rolled ahead of them; _don't mind us, we're only passing through, chasing a storm!_

* * *

Drummer could only describe it as being _reeled in_ ; they had bitten the worm, the hook was in their mouths, and they were on their way to the muddy shore. The sky was growing pale even if they could not see the sun, and the first vortex came down as they passed a signpost welcoming them to 'Arrow Rock'. Several hundred metres wide, they could not see the damage it wrought, but they could _hear_ the tearing of trees as the column did its dirty work. Amanda wanted to fucking _scream_ as a second vortex spiralled its way down to the earth and circled a waltz with the other.

Gathering up her chair, Book ploughed between the writhing trees, headed straight for the eye of the storm. The Rowdy 3 chased after, deafened by the wind and soaked to the bone. There was a flash and the sound of shredding bark as a tree fell, vaporised, ahead of them. The Third Book just _kept walking_ , wiping the wet from her eyes as she watched the riotous sky above them.

Amanda wasn't scared, she didn't know what she was; her heart beating in her throat, her mind fizzed with mania. She was following a mad-woman headfirst into goddamn tornado, so that must have made her a mad-woman too. Cross was laughing, and maybe that was the best thing to do as the wind sucked them forward at an unrelenting pace. A third vortex was forming right over their heads and Book threw her hands up to greet it. Beast yowled with sheer adrenalin-fuelled delight.

Behind them the column landed, and joined the dance with its brethren. The ground shook at their feet as trees were torn out by the roots. They were _so close_ , they could _feel_ it. Eyes glued to the sky they watched the vortices spin out beyond the forest and then whip back in like they were on elastic. They circled and circled, pulling in tight until there was only one column left, as wide as a football field and impossibly stationary, sucking life from the earth and spitting it out into the sky. They could see the wall of the storm tearing through the ground ahead of them, it was within walking distance; _how are we even still standing?_

Book screamed at Amanda; "I'm going to die in the dumbest way, taking a shit like Elvis!"

Then she was running, actually _running_ , right into the wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELP ME


	10. Project Gog (explicit)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Gog!  
> And Porn!
> 
> I did not expect it to take us this long to get here...
> 
> Cross-centric (surprising no one?)

They were _mad_. They were all _insane_. They _had_ to be.

Cross sprinted into the spinning vortex of rain and muck and wind first, the Beast at his tail, Drummer on his heels. The world disappeared beneath their feet, weightless and whipped by flying debris, lashed by the constant deluge. They were spat out onto solid ground in what could almost pass for absolute silence. There was no wind, no rain, just soggy ground and wet knees.

Yowling, exhilarated, Cross rolled onto his back as Amanda swung up to sit on her feet. They stared at the astounding sky as lightning danced in the eye above them, zapping up and down and side to side like the never-ending chases from Scooby Doo. The shape of the cone was incomprehensibly mobile, the clouds like raw cotton folding and rolling over themselves in a fury. It opened up so high into the heavens they could almost see the pale blue dawn. They only tore their eyes away when they heard people yelling.

Half a dozen folk were jogging their way, sun-scorched and mucky, with matted hair and straggly dreads, messy curls and uneven shaves (there was a beard or two of significant magnitude too). They were in old holey shirts and sewn up jackets, boots with the soles half off, and dresses made of shredded silk; thrift store gold worn down to the threads. Their bodies were covered in pictures and words, some well done and others shit, some where you'd expect and others, like Cross', etched across their faces.

The first to reach them helped Book to her feet, hugging her immediately with the only arm he had. The others offered hands to the soaking Rowdy 3, who felt as well as looked as though they'd been dunked in a river. They were pawed and pushed along between unscathed trees as Book was swarmed by a dozen more approaching faces that all seemed to recognise her fondly. Amanda couldn't understand how the people around them were dry as a bone.

That was, until she was pulled into a grove surrounded by a sea of tents. A curved arc of rainbowed fabrics made up an impromptu village, with the odd grotty van and beat up motorcycle dotted between them. Big pieces of wood, weighty boxes and windbreakers were everywhere - holding down pegs and tent edges, protecting the circle. It shouldn't have worked, but as Amanda saw the same tattoo popping up across countless arms, necks, legs, faces, she had to chalk it up to the impossible luck of the Gog. There was even a damn clothes line strung between two trees, and the garments upon it were rippling as though there were just a gentle breeze. 

* * *

"Where'd you start?" A sun-bleached blonde, podgy man with a finger-thick nose ring asked as he handed Amanda a metal plate with a fried egg and some bacon, the symbol of the Gog scratched onto his wrist - he'd introduced himself as Bull (the woman with him added the suffix 'shit').

A dozen fires glowed across the grove as campers were beginning to emerge and cook breakfast alongside them, sitting back to watch the impossible sky. Amanda spied so many sleepy dusty faces peeking out of flaps watching her as she ate.

"Oregon." Cross answered as he indicated that the plate offered to him be handed to Beast.

The Rowdy 3 had found themselves, only moments before, with arms filled with dry clothes, being fussed at by the people around them. Shoved into empty tents, they had changed haphazardly out of soggy pants and sodden shirts, before being sat down together for food.

"With Third Book?" The Crusty who was doing the _actual_ cooking asked incredulously over her spitting pan; her hair was black, a mess of pulled back dreads full of beads and platted with strands of straw, her eyes were dotted underneath in a pattern that seemed to make her smile look like sunshine, and her symbol was carved into her chest - she called herself Roses.

"No we um, we found her in California." Cross leaned over to accept the beer Bull gave him instead of food.

Amanda watched as dozens of Crusties gradually emerged into the stormy light of day, starting to lose count of them; they just _kept coming_. By the time she thought she was at seventy or so, Drummer had realised not even half the tents were empty, so had simply given up. Her stomach rolled as she looked down at her eggs and she put her plate on the ground to feed a pack of enthusiastic dogs as they barrelled through the grove. Her breakfast was gone in a mad slobbery dash as the excited pups encircled Beast hoping for more; she scoffed her bacon before they could steal it.

"We honestly didn't think she'd come." Roses said, passing Bull his own plate, "A couple of folk said they tried to pick her up on the way but she just told them to fuck off."

"Fool her thrice." Cross muttered to Amanda, as he cracked his can.

Amanda reached over and jabbed at his ribs as he went to take a sip. The shirt the Gog had given him didn't have any sleeves, and the sides were torn open almost all the way to the hips - she could see so much of his picture-littered skin. Drummer laughed when he coughed over the rim of his can, spitting out bubbles.

Then the grove was filled with the sound of trumpets, two or three at first, rising into the air from between the tents as they drew out a collection of lingering mournful notes, but then there were six, ten, more than a dozen. It made Drummer's hair stand on end. Cross gripped a handful of her faded-to-brown, fake-satin, hand-me-down dress as they looked around questioning the purpose; _Welcome to the Reunion_.

* * *

It was staggering to Amanda, the sheer amount of _people_ ; a writhing swarm under a lightning filled sky. There were easily two hundred of them, almost certainly more. She watched as groups came together to hug and chat, dispersed as even more circled in; star systems colliding and dividing as faces spotted faces they hadn't seen in years. She saw so many symbols in so many places, but also so many more people like _her_ , with nothing to mark them as Gog - companions and friends, lovers and children. From young to old, older than she'd expect travellers who were still travelling to be, the Gog gathered around the fires in groups that soon exuded certain types of energy in the early afternoon.

Drummer wandered them with curiosity, trying to distract from the relentless damnable queasy anxiety; more than two dozen folk were loudly sharing stories about their journeys, each more bizarre than the last; a whole gaggle were swapping effects with mournful respect, bags full to the brim with things people no longer needed because they were no longer there; another group danced and drank and laughed, no need for talking; Book sat with a collection of men and women, sombre, discussing trinkets as they exchanged hands; one corner even had a set-up for those rudimentary tattoos and less-permanent face paints; families swarmed in and out of areas, children screaming and laughing as their parents tried to catch up with old friends.

There was one common thread through them all, though, and that was music. There were so _many_ instruments, banjos and fiddles, accordions and guitars, ukuleles and horns, washboards and basses made with sticks, string and upturned tubs. Many were in better nick than the people who played them as different clashing songs lulled in and out of dominance around the grove. Some were a mad cacophony with shouting and screams, others angry with righteous messages of rebellion, a few were silly songs with double meanings being played to the kids, as slow instrumentals lilted over other careful conversations.

At times a song would start somewhere that the whole grove seemed to recognise, and for a while the discordant din was unified with haunting melodies and loving choruses sung by so many voices it brought tears to the eyes. Amanda felt so alien, and yet so comforted by the humanity of them all. The Gog were... wonderful. She watched them hug and kiss and care for each other with a strangely detached warmth; no one was beholden to anyone else, not unless they wanted to be, so they moved on and away from each other with ease.

Lightheaded, Amanda sat on a box and felt the knot in her stomach tighten. She was on the verge of keeling over; _ready to fucking barf_. Her eyes flew around helplessly for Cross as her hand gripped her stomach, and she found him. A man with an 'X' tattooed across his eye was hugging her Rowdy tightly, crying. Her whole body shivered as she gulped down air and leaned back to look at the sky. The bile practically rising in her throat...

Then it _released_. Feeling nothing but utter relief, that sensation of being _wrong_ , of being alien, an imposter? It was _gone_. A curtain lifted that had been blocking out the sun, and she could see the light of day again. Blinking at the lightning, confused and numb, Drummer had no idea where the feeling had actually come from. Now that it was gone she _knew, that_ anxiety hadn't been _hers_. How could it have been? She was never going to care about fitting in with these people _that much_.

Her eyes fell back on Cross, he was smiling and sniffling as the cross-eyed man mussed his hair and spoke to him animatedly, with obvious and great affection. All that worry and upset was calmed, she felt reassured, shuddering with solace, she saw Cross' whole body move in the _exact_ same way. Her eyes widened, as she watched him get dragged away; was _it his?_

* * *

Cross dashed up to her and lifted her into the air, Amanda's thighs held tight against his chest as he grinned. She couldn't help it, she laughed, the elation rolling off of him in waves was contagious.

"That was Nought!" He gasped, "Nought's here, man!"

Comprehension dawned as Amanda's hands came up to push back his hair excitedly; "You never said he was Gog!"

"Well he's not!" He laughed as he squeezed her legs and her chest pressed in against his chin, "His girlfriend is."

Amanda looked out over the crowd and spotted the cross-eyed man, Nought, smiling as he glanced up at her; beside him a heavily pregnant woman held his hand, talking to nobody in particular. _Gog adjacent, then._ Drummer's eyes came back down at the tentative sensation of Cross running the hem of her dress, filled with moth-holes along the edges, between his fingers. He was still staring up at her, so very happy, but behind it all Amanda could only see the stuff he hadn't been able to say to her about what he was feeling.

"You know... just because you moved on, just because you _changed_ , that doesn't mean you lost the right to be here, bud." She said quietly, and his eyebrows knotted together as he listened, "You get to _belong_ just as much as anybody else does. You aren't... phoney."

Slowly her body slid down his chest as he let her drop, bringing her mouth in to meet his. Her feet hit the ground as his fingers rolled into her hair, and it was a gentle kiss he pulled her into, because he wasn't quite sure what he wanted it to mean. She _knew_ that as he pulled away only a little, just to keep _looking_ at her.

"Do you know you've been sharing it?" She whispered against his lips, running her knuckles against the skin of his ribs through the open side of his shirt, "I felt all of it. I've been feeling it for _days_."

Cross shook his head as he licked his lips, still so close to her face as he murmured back; "We get echoes, and- and _smells_. We can share it with each other too, sometimes. I just- I didn't think anyone but _us_ could feel it."

Amanda nodded, taking one of his hands from her face just to hold it; "You can _talk_ to me, dude. You're not alone, even when they aren't here."

Cross kissed her again; "I know that."

Turning he started to pull her away from the crowd, and towards the ocean of tents.

* * *

Cross pushed Amanda's back against the rear doors of some Crusty's dodgy van. Crowding her in with his thumbs at her cheeks and his tongue in her mouth, his hips pinned hers to the door. She ran cold fingers down his back, through the gaps, and enjoyed the power of making him shiver. His breath was as hectic and heavy as hers as she swallowed the electric taste of his wanting.

A quick glance around told them they were alone, the inhabitants of the camp happily socialising away in the grove. Amanda hurriedly reached between them and undid his pants as he bit at her lips and grabbed for her ass. She shoved her hand down and rubbed the length of him through his underwear, he was only just beginning to get hard.

Cross huffed as she squeezed, and he moved in even closer to press his forehead against hers as he whispered; "Can you feel _this_?"

And she _could_ , all the energy in her body moved like a wave straight to her crotch as it ebbed and throbbed almost in beat with her own hand when she stroked him. Slamming her tongue against his hungrily, she nodded and grabbed a fistful of his hair. His chest beat heavy beside her own as he hectically licked one of his hands and went for the heat between her legs. He was giving her _no_ space; _I don't want any_. Roughly pushing her panties aside, Cross rubbed long and quick against her lips before locating her clit, and then he started to _circle_. Drummer's head rolled back against the door of the van, and he took the opportunity to drag a deep arc up her neck with his tongue, to run his teeth along her jawline.

Grinding her molars to find some focus, his breath in her ears making her feel thick, Drummer connected again with his lips, digging her nails into his scalp as her other hand slid inside his undies and started wanking him off, fast and tight. She wanted his erection quicker than it was coming as he shoved his forehead against hers again and her pussy pulsed feeling _his_ pleasure. He stole the breath from her mouth as two fingers slid into her cunt, and she _groaned_ on it. Their hands were unforgivingly fast as they egged each other on with teeth and tongues, and he was just so _messy,_ touching her everywhere, overtaking all of her senses.

His long rod of a dick fully hard in her grasp, Cross used the hand he didn't have _inside_ her to push passed her neckline and caress a tit. Her hips bucked towards him at the feel of his rough skin sweeping surely over a nipple and, almost as a reward, his fingers in her snatch went from two to four. Amanda swore, a mindless chain of expletives that made him laugh against her lips as he fucked her with his hand like he might not get another chance. She shoved him away - not far enough to stop him, not far enough to remove him - just enough to get his pants and underwear _out of her way_.

When she pulled him back in, his cock slid up against her thigh and made it all the way to her crotch, where his hand was still pumping, and very much an obstruction to her plans. He was kissing her cheeks, her eyes, her ears, her lips. Amanda slid her fingers up inside his shirt and worked her way to his chest, where she circled his nipples harshly with her thumbs. His tongue trembled in her mouth as she drove her nails into his pecks. 

"I fucking love this shirt." She gasped into his mouth, and he took the hand from her tit to suck his own fingers.

He reached down and rubbed the head of his cock, covering it with spit, then pulled one of her thighs up tight against his hip. She could feel his fingers pointedly spreading her pussy open wider, the cold air on her lips as his dick slid inside. The sound her throat made at the stretch to take him was almost a purr. The van creaked and her eyes went spotty as his hips pressed flush against hers, and for a moment they stopped right there. Chests heaving, his nose pressed in hard against hers, he squared his feet to keep them both balanced.

 _Fake satin is fucking sweaty_ ; Amanda thought as they looked at each other, pressed in tight, like they were starved and finally about to eat. Cross licked his lips as he shifted to let her slip the straps of her dress off and push the fabric down passed her chest - exposing her breasts. Quickly he pulled his length out of her, and their bodies shook as he shoved it back in. The van squeaked. Drummer yanked at the neck of his shirt from the inside, pressing his torso hard against hers as the well-worn fabric teased her nipples; _we're_ ** _never_** _giving this shirt back_. He did it again, and again, fucking her harshly as she rolled her hips to meet him, ecstatic with the friction.

For some time, the only sounds they made were heated gasps and the slap of skin against skin. The rhythm they found was fast, enjoying the sensation of each others bodies and being alone. They kissed and they moaned, and they giggled as the van at her back scraped and creaked under their abuses.

Until Cross leaned away to take hold of a breast, pulled her thigh higher against his ribs, and changed the angle of his hips as he drove up into her. The whole length of him rubbed against her clit when he did it, and the throttled sound she made as she thumped at his chest only encouraged him. Edging her ass forward a little, he ran his cock along her and then pushed up inside all over again. The way her eyes rolled told him she _loved_ it, and he set a pace that was maddening.

Though she gasped and whimpered and heaved as he kneaded her chest harshly, it wasn't until his hips smacked hard against hers, and he pressed in _so deep_ , that her hands shot to his ass and she whined; "Like that, like that, like that."

He did it again and again, over and over, with her hands guiding his hips until her legs started quivering, and she was cumming around his pulsing cock with the longest most _guttural_ moan. His hips juddered to a halt for only a moment, his eyes wide as her insides rippled, and then he was pushing again, the same angle, the same pace, her pussy clenching and sucking on him as she lost control of her knees . The red drag of his consumption was something she felt in her guts as he drew out her orgasm for as long as he could.

He pulled her ass in roughly and picked up her other thigh, slamming her whole body hard against the van door as it dented. She crossed her legs at his back, pulling him in as tight as she could, his chest flush against hers as he fucked her harder, the orgasm beginning to ebb until he spread his fingers over her clit and shoved all of them into her snatch; _like he did the goddamn first time_. It made her whole lower half shake so violently she could have cried as she just came and _came_ for him. It felt like her whole weight, and every bit of muscle she had was holding her upright on his cock, and as he ate he pressed his forehead to hers so she could _feel_ it. 

Breathlessly incoherent, she _got_ the pleasure, of course she did, but there was so much more wrapped up in it; affection and awe, pride and satisfaction - making her orgasm made him feel _strong_. Fuck-drunkenly she thought it made her feel whole. And then there was the _taste_ of it! It was like pudding, like strawberries, with a side of her own goddamn cunt. She wanted nothing more than to know what _his_ tasted like.

Shoving him back as hard as she could, Amanda dropped to her knees, took his cock into her mouth and started sucking. The sound he made was astounding as his hands shot down to grasp at her hair and he leaned forward, pressing his head against the van. She licked and gasped and took him as far back into her throat as she could; when he pushed it just a bit farther she gagged and he let go. Grabbing hold of his hand, at the back of her head, she hoped he'd get the hint as she met his eyes; _don't let go_. He seemed to, because then he was fucking her mouth like he had done her pussy and even though she gagged he kept going; which was good, because she _wanted him to_. When he came she felt it slide down the back of her throat till she shivered, his face enraptured above her. The head of his cock dripped over her tongue as he pulled away gasping and shaking like a leaf. He tasted like salt with a little sweet.

Dazedly he walked round in miniscule circle, as Amanda struggled back up to her feet. Then he was pressing her against the van again, like he couldn't hold his own weight anymore and once more, he was desperately, hungrily, lovingly, kissing her. His hands stroking her neck, thumbs caressing her cheeks, nose to nose, chest to chest. Amanda reached into his shirt, and stroked the hairs at the base of his belly. She felt him carefully pulling her dress back up, and she smiled against his teeth.

* * *

The rest of the afternoon went by in a haze of animated conversation with countless many strangers. The Rowdy 3 moving from fire to fire introducing themselves and listening to the plethora of discussions that did abound. The storm still raging above them in impossible silence.

An elderly woman who looked like an ancient Earth-Mother ready to throw hands was painting Beasts arms with elegant green swirls and Amanda and Cross sat with them for a while. Her mark of the Gog was placed directly in the centre of her forehead and her name, she said, was Dotty. She seemed to be of the sort who liked talking. Or, more accurately, she was the kind of woman who could carry a conversation on alone for hours so long as she thought somebody was sat there listening.

"Our dirt don't wash off," She was saying resignedly, "but maybe we can make it into something pretty in the right light."

The patterns she was making over Beast's skin were lovely, floral but jagged - with a bit of threat.

"It ain't like we don't see the damage we cause, after all," She gestured to the sky guiltily, "but a symbol's a powerful thing and _they_ might have made it, but we've _claimed_ it."

She drew the symbol of the Gog over Beast's shoulder; "Whatever this was before? Now it's a pitchfork we're driving into their bellies wherever we leave it, to show they cannot contain us, couldn't control us, and didn't get to _keep_ us. We made it _beautiful_ , in spite of all their ugliness." 

* * *

"I kept pulling and pulling til my arm slid off!" A horrendously skinny man explained dramatically over the fire as people nodded with anguished understanding and he waved about his arm, cut off at the elbow having healed ugly; "I was back on the trains 6 months later."

" _Why_?" Amanda gawked, this man wasn't Gog, he was part of a troupe of travellers who were accompanying one - his name was Si.

"What else was I going to do?" He laughed, and several of the people around him did so too as Drummer blushed, feeling silly for opening her mouth, but he backpedalled at her mortified expression, trying to be kind; "You ask anyone here, and they'll have a different answer for why they do what they do. People were travelling long before there were any roads, after all."

"I like the peace." One woman offered quietly.

"I had to escape." A young man spat.

"Lookin' for adventure." Someone laughed.

"Cos fuck getting a job in this economy!" That one got a ripple of bitter agreement.

"There's a whole world out there I might never get to see, if all I worried about was the money."

Si nodded to the people around him, "And I like how sometimes the friends I make in one place turn up at another months later. It's like the world is bringing us together to prove we're not alone. I found _my people_ doing this."

Amanda smiled, she could understand that.

* * *

Eventually the Rowdy 3 found themselves sitting beside Nought and his girlfriend, the Gog he introduced as O.C. Drummer was happily eating for the first time in a week without any nausea to ruin the taste, inhaling Doritos and dip by the bag full as the sky darkened with the unseen setting sun. O.C's hair was bedraggled and cut short, with strange tufts around her face that looked like unfortunate sideburns. She had a line tattooed straight across her face, and her symbol was on a bicep as she sat and let her man massage her feet.

"We're just a rag-tag bunch of bad weather forecasts!" She had laughed, "Until the Universe says we can be a natural disaster, that is." 

"You don't have these 'Reunions' more often?" Amanda asked as O.C shook her head.

"You know the feeling of your skin crawling when you see a squished slug, its white slimy guts spewed across the pavement as its corpse blackens under the sun?" The Gog was being _real_ specific, "That's what we feel like to each other most of the time. We're walking corpses circling each other from afar, trying to keep everyone's innards from falling out."

"That's real graphic, Osh." Nought squinted; Nought was a wild-haired and wild-eyed stick of a man in his 40s, covered in scratches and cuts, names all over his arms; the way he held his smokes was the same as Cross - between two fingers and his thumb.

"I think it's so we can keep each other safe, mostly. Some folks can stand it more than others, so you can get a couple of Gog sticking together sometimes. I was a kid at the last one of these things, and for the first time in my life the ache in my guts to keep moving on and getting out the way became a _need_ to _get somewhere_. Staying _still_ was the freedom for once, and being around my mother was easy." O.C shifted uncomfortably, her belly ludicrously large, "When we stop listening to the way the winds blowing, or try to ignore that _feeling,_ we can get too close to each other and- and that's when people get hurt."

"Hurt like Book?" Cross enquired, thoughtfully.

"Well, the Books are a bitter breed." Their eyes collectively came round to the group of three dozen men and women sat swapping trinkets with serious discussion at the next fire over, "I think sometimes they'd rather starve half-to-death than fucking _move_. They just want to stay put and ignore the responsibility we have to each other. It gets a lot of people hurt, but none more so than themselves."

The Third Book sat amongst men and women with severed legs and absent arms, with rusted crutches and false limbs, one man was even missing an eye; "So sure, they're mostly all staying still, and they get to _keep stuff_ , and protect our stories, but at what cost? I mean, did they really wrestle back some _control_ over themselves from the Universe? Or did, and I hesitate to suggest this, the Powers that Be just grant them a reprieve?"

Amanda considered this, before turning to Nought, "And you don't feel _any_ of that stuff?"

"Nope." He shook his head.

"Then why do _you_..." Her gesture was vague, but he seemed to catch Drummer's meaning, as he glanced carefully at Cross.

"When my kid brother got sick," Nought started as Cross met his gaze and offered a nod, "none of us knew what to do. He was my buddy, and I watched him wasting away because there was nothing I- we could do. We didn't have the money. So, when he died, my folks well... they _didn't_ handle it. He was such a good kid, wanted to see everything and never got the chance to. My Mama drank, my Pa fucking hung himself and I- I realised I didn't know who I was without him. So I left, looking for me and hoping he was worth something."

Cross' voice was gentle, almost child-like as Nought touched his face self-consciously; "You were a brother to me-"

But the Crusty was waving his hand dismissively as O.C stroked his arm; "Where did you _go_ , man? I _looked_ for you."

* * *

Cross' head jerked to the side, and Amanda's spine went rigid. The series of twitches he made looking out into the darkening forest told her something was _wrong_. Drummer whistled over her fingers to call in Beast as the pair rocked to their feet simultaneously. Nought balked, the conversation suddenly dropped as the Rowdy 3 surged forward, but then there was screaming out in the brush and _everyone_ was moving.

A couple, two women, came dashing through the tents mortified as torchlight flashed after them. In the distance on all sides there wasn't just one torch, or even a dozen, but countless numbers of them moving within the wall of the storm, rushing closer. The music was gone, the talking halted as the Gog swarmed together into a horde, the Rowdy 3 swept along with their flurry of movement.

Beast hissed through her jagged teeth, surrounded by people, as blackened figures rushed forward rifle first into the grove. The Rowdy 3 seethed; _Blackwing. How?_ They were shouting, demanding, threatening, it was all stereotypical bullshit. Amanda felt the earth beneath her feet _breathing_ as Cross guarded her, but the Gog _didn't move_. Not when the circle around them closed, not when the muzzles of guns were pointed directly at their faces, not even as their friends cowered and their children cried. The calmness of the Gog was unreal.

Amanda watched the air about her expand and contract as reality seemed to dissolve into impossibility. She could see the trees _weeping_. When tasers were fired at bellies, bringing some of the Gog to the ground, the sky _exploded_. Rain suddenly pummelling down on their heads like hail, lightning tearing at the trees as thunder rattled the very earth. Someone was yelling. No, not yelling, _roaring_.

Somewhere in the crowd, buried in the sea of Gog, swallowed by the echoing deluge, someone was screaming in fury. Then not just one, but two, not only two but four, eight, twenty, sixty... a hundred or more. The Gog were banging their feet and scratching at their chests, their eyes turning orange, as the air around them sparked and surged. They looked like mad monsters in the rising dark, their fires spluttering out with black unhappy smoke, their mouths gaping maws.

Then there was a sound unlike anything Drummer had ever heard, a rumbling rolling deafening cacophony coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once. It shook in her ribs and for once Amanda wasn't the only one who felt the earth _move._ Everything lurched, as the Gog wailed and whooped and screeched their insanity out into the storm. The ground split and crumbled about them, collapsing in; the opening of a sinkhole. The men who had come to capture them, control them, repurpose them, fell into a black opening void.

As the Gog rose up on rigid rock, Blackwing slid down, scrambling on sodden mud, their torches going out with brutal finality. Horrified screams spluttered from below, from the dark, and the ground slammed back down where it had been before. The clouds flashed and rolled and writhed, swirling out, thinning even if the rain continued to pour.

Awkwardly the Gog stood about them. The air bitter, the night cold.

It was done. The Reunion was over.

"Bait." The Third Book laughed bitterly behind them, "We were fucking _bait_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know when you proofread and proofread until you can'ts proofreads no more?  
> Well, I forgot back in Chapter 8 to give Nought his name. I left an X in there cos I'm a clever clogs. So, X = Nought. 
> 
> @Santa_Pacifica I hope you like them!
> 
> Editorial note:- Gog Mythos
> 
> Arguably a people rather than a person, the Gog of Magog are described as an apocolyptic horde. Written again and again as the army that will appear to fight against the civilised and enlightened (read: colonised and christian), they are best described as anti-establishment - stick it to the man! In myth they a drawn together by deceit at the end of days, and it is said God will send natural disasters to drive them away.


	11. There's No 'Shermer' in Illinois (explicit)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gripps-centric with a side of Martin/Cross apparently?

People were crying, some were screaming, others were digging desperately at the ground where only moments before a friend, a lover, a child had been. Orange eyes blinked in the mad deluge of rain as the air became sickeningly real. Hands pulled and pushed as feet began running; the Gog, angry, frightened, and dirty with mud all understood in a sweeping wave that it was time to _run_.

For all the time it took them to reach the grove at Arrow Rock, the days of sleepless nights and uncomfortable sanctuaries, the Gog were _gone_ in what seemed like the blink of an eye. Their collapsed tents reconstituted into bags, their instruments collected, and their journeys continuing on from where the Reunion had left off. They had done what the Universe had brought them together for; it was time to pay the price for it.

 _Their dirt could never wash off, that's what Dotty had said_ ; and Amanda had the sinking miserable surety that not a single person buried beneath their feet would have a symbol of the Gog - Blackwing or not.

The only sound as the grove was pitched into empty darkness was the falling of rain on a million rustling leaves. Upended trees lay ruined next to unclaimed property, and the change was uncomfortable, it was eerie. Amanda stared about them unable to process what had just happened, that there were countless corpses beneath her feet; _would anyone ever know they were here_?

In the chaos Cross found their bags, their old clothes, and lead them on a hurried meandering path out into the tornado torn village that had sat beside the road to the grove. The huge white graffiti tag someone had left of a pitchfork symbol on the, somehow still lit, town sign told Amanda that, _yes_ , at some point someone would know. And was that a relief, or a burden?

Looking back between the trees, Drummer was disconnected from the horror she could feel rising in her chest. The Rowdy 3 had left behind bodies more than once, she knew that, enough of them to fill a morgue defending themselves, but _the Gog_? What had she just seen? Been made a part of? _Normal_ people were _gone_. It was on a scale beyond anything Drummer had ever truly considered. It had been so abstract, unreal; it couldn't be anymore.

* * *

"Was this it?" They found the Third Book wheeling herself down the side of the road, alone and hysterical, crying and laughing and muttering to herself, swivelling to face them when she heard the running; "Was this what you thought you were saving us from? Some help you were! We don't _need it_."

"No. You don't." Cross agreed because Drummer couldn't, lost on the stream unable to find an outcropping.

"We'll go where the Universe says we've gotta go, and the world will tear itself apart, and people will _die_ all around us," Book spat out the rain, her voice breaking, "won't they?"

"You hate this." Drummer regurgitated, and Book laughed even more bitterly than she had before.

"More than you could possibly know." She stuck out her thumb, and a beat up old car squeaked down the dark road to stop beside her, "But if you're right, and more of this is coming, I expect we'll be seeing you again."

As the Rowdy 3 made to join her in the car Book put herself physically in the way, stopping them; "We aren't going to _same way_ anymore. You don't get to come with me."

"Wha- How will we get to Chicago?" Drummer stammered, as Cross took her hand; he could hear her panic.

"I _don't care_." Book was climbing into the car, pulling her wheelchair in over her head and chucking it onto the back seat, mud splattering the fake leather as the man inside smiled, "The Books, they're going to share your symbol since I suppose out of the options before us you guys are relatively safe."

"Not that stupid fucking picture, man." Cross groaned as she slammed the door and rolled down the window, "We're the Rowdy 3. Not Incubus, alright?"

"Mhmm, whatever. Fuck off." Book was gone.

* * *

Amanda laughed hollowly, before her eyes went blurry and her knees gave out. On the floor her body convulsed, and she felt like she was out of control. Her chest tightening and her hands shaking violently, her body started rocking and her fingers twitching as she tried to dig them into her sides. She thought that maybe her head was splitting open, and felt herself groaning, but couldn't hear it over the sound of her own heart beating so fast it might burst.

Whining into the rain, Drummer dissolved into a full-blown panic attack. She remembered the feeling, it was almost hysterically nostalgic. So anxious that she was going to have a Pararibulitis attack, Amanda used to end up causing them herself. Not since meeting the Rowdy 3 had she even had one, not since she'd stopped living in fear of having her hallucinations, not since she _knew_ they would take away the pain. She _couldn't breathe_. It was too much, it was too hard. Desperately looking at Cross and Beast, Amanda felt sick. They were so _alone_ ; she wanted Martin, she wanted Vogel, she wanted Gripps!

Amanda found herself, for the first time, wishing for imaginary pain; something ludicrously more _tangible_ to deal with. She had never tried to force an attack in the Real, there was no magic pool, no mentor to guide her. All she had was her own throbbing head, but there had to be a switch, a door, a wound that was closed and needed opening. Scratching her palms up the tarmac, she felt like her skull was on the verge of cracking. So, she did what she was taught. Instead of running away, Drummer chased the pain; pushed for it to be everywhere.

Screaming, her head burst at the seams, spiked wires and sharpened metal slitting through her skin, they wrapped her arms and tied up her legs. The pain wasn't _real_ , but it felt more useful than the alternative. Her body was sliced open like string through clay, it was something to _focus_ on.

Cross dropped down to his hands and knees in front of her and ate it up quickly, talking desperately over her, utterly lost; "It's okay Drummer. It'll be fine, man, we can hitch to Chicago, no problem."

Her head fell between her legs and she found herself weeping on the roadside, a body settling in at her back, arms warm around her shoulders, with a chittering voice in her ear. Beast huddled in to hug her tightly, the sound of her strange not-words giving Amanda a kindness she felt she didn't deserve. She whispered silly little sounds, mimicking cartoons they had seen together once, and it took Drummer so aback that she giggled. The wild-thing, encouraged, continued to click and whistle, kept making sounds they'd heard on passing TVs. Drummer felt her cheek against her own and shuddered at the coldness of it, long hair brushing her skin.

Cross reached out to stroke Amanda's head worriedly as slowly she pulled herself together again, her hands gripping the arms around her thankfully.

Tears streaked her face when she eventually looked up to meet Cross' glowing eyes, she was _done_ with all of this; "I wanna go _home_ , dude." 

* * *

They were trudging through the rain for a good few hours before a pick-up truck pulled in and offered to take them to St Louis. There was no room in the front for them, with the guy having two dogs and a wife in the cab, but the Rowdy 3 were more than grateful to just be moving faster than walking speed. Beast cuddled in between Amanda's legs, and Cross pulled a creased up tarp around them all as tightly as he could. They listened to the wind roaring past their ears, as the rain dripped from their noses, and ran from their sodden clothes onto cold metal.

Amanda buried her forehead in against Cross' neck and asked, with her lips pressed against his weather-cooled skin, close to his ear; "Did you really enjoy this? Living like this?"

"Didn't have much of a choice in it." His fingers pressed in at her side, "It could be wonderful sometimes. I mean, with Nought it could be fun."

"Do you think you would have gone back?" Carefully she slid her hand into his shirt, and counted the knots of his spine, "If you'd known he had looked for you."

Cross didn't answer for some time, his eyes heavy on the road as she touched him; "No. No I don't think I would have, but... I- I wish I could've told him I was safe, not alone, y'know? I never forgot him, man, what he taught me kept us all going more than once. I'll never go back, not now that I have the guys... not now that we have _you_ , but... I wish he could've known I was out there, that I found a family, that I was working out my own way to be happy."

"And you _are_ happy?" She whispered as his fingers travelled up to stroke the side of her chest, and she closed her eyes.

He nodded, as he ducked his head in to look at her, "Are you?"

"Not right now, no." She admitted with a small laugh, "This is... This is _hard_."

He nodded again and looked away, swallowing before he spoke; "I remember being little and _alone_. I think I was broken, like, my Dad said that I was a monster or some shit? I wasn't- I'm _not-_ maybe I _am_ , but... that's okay. It's okay to be whatever it is I am, because I'm not _lonely_ anymore."

Amanda knew exactly what he meant.

* * *

In St Louis they were ants in a foreign nest trying to understand the flow, struggling to keep the pace with the bugs about them. Cross couldn't remember where a freight yard was, and by the time they'd hitched their way over to one, it turned out to be the _wrong_ one and they had to head for another.

And as they began the tedious task of trying to entice another driver to stop for them, again, Drummer found herself pining for Book. Well, not Book, but the gift the Gog had to just keep _moving_. Without it, they were spending hours on the side of roads being ignored or teased by passers-by. Hungry, cold, wet and lost, Amanda decided that once they were back in the Van, she wasn't leaving it for a _week._ She even said as much, as another car passed them by in the chilly light of dawn.

"A week?" Cross huffed as he carried Beast on his back, "You're going to be pissing in bottles, man."

"Okay, I'll take bathroom breaks." She conceded, "But you guys better get me so _many_ twizzlers. And nobody is allowed to steal them, not even Martin. I've earned that sugar."

"Did _Martin_ steal the last batch?" He laughed, "That motherfucker let us think it was Vogel!"

"Well, you do choose to ride with a dastardly fucker." Amanda grinned.

"And you _knew_ , so what does that say about you, Drummer?"

"I am his _match_ , and your _superior_." She declared mockingly.

There on the deserted roadside they were just Rowdies again, breaking up the boredom by teasing each other. It wasn't somehow getting on somebody else's nerves, there were no more strangers with odd habits and cavernous angers to tip-toe around. It was a distraction. It was almost normal. Amanda yearned for more of it.

* * *

They managed to get across town just after dawn, and Cross found a freight-hopper lurking in the trees skirting the yard, who confirmed they were finally at the right one; some of the trains on these tracks were headed North-East.

Leading quickly, Cross got them all into a car he called a 'Gondola', the sides coming up about as high as their chests and the floor littered with the debris of a previous load (wood, it had looked like). There was no cover from the rain, but most of the freight was the same type of car, so beggars couldn't be choosers.

They crouched in the wet for what must have been hours, before the train hissed and lurched and then they were off, earplugs shoved in. When they hit open track the trio wandered back and forth inside the tub restlessly. The rain never let up, and to stave off the cold Beast and Drummer danced with each other. Cross watched them with a gentle smile as they giggled and dipped, getting wet faces - little girls, hand in hand, playing in puddles. Sometimes they all just stood together, resting their arms on the lip of the car and stared out at the grey and green in silence.

By early afternoon they were mercifully in Chicago.

The problem with Chicago, though, was it wasn't exactly a small town. It was a _city_ , and now they were in it they had no idea where to go from there. There was no single train station that would make them easy to find. So, as Cross, Beast and Drummer hopped off their Gondola and scurried under a bridge, thankful to be out of the rain, the massive flaw in their plan became readily apparent; _where are we going to find the Van_? A question that soon evolved into 'do we go out and look for them' or 'do we wait for them to come and look for us'. Cross thought it best to stay put.

* * *

They heard the gurgle of the Van before they saw it. Felt the heavy bass of the music the boys were blaring as the wheels screeched and they skidded into view. It was sunset. The relief Amanda felt was like adrenalin as Beast made off running before Cross could stop her. They'd been waiting for hours.

Back out into the rain, the Van skidded to a halt right before the forest-thing, the side door flying open as Vogel tumbled out. Beast tackled him to the ground as soon as she reached him, and he laughed and whooped and hugged her. Drummer's whole body screamed for joy as Gripps hopped out a bit more gracefully, and Martin climbed from the front driver-side window; _that means the door is broken_ ** _again_**.

Amanda ran forward as Gripps jogged over, holding her arms out to him as soon as he was within reach. She was so cold and he was _so warm_ as he wrapped her in the tightest hug he could. She buried her face in his shoulder and let herself be lifted from the ground, wrapping her legs around him - eating up every bit of heat. He felt so good to hold, she thought she might cry.

"You're soaking." He whispered, as he walked them carefully back under the cover of the bridge.

Sniffing, Amanda leaned back to nod at him, smiling. Then she saw Martin walk up in front of Cross, and her hair stood on end. Martin pulled the cigarette from his own mouth and put it into Cross', waited for him to take a drag, then flicked it to the floor. As smoke blew out over his face, their foreheads pressed together roughly in the way Amanda now knew; that meant they were _sharing_ something. She could practically _see_ the energy passing between them. Martin's hand gripped the back of Cross' head tightly and he just started kissing him; his eye, his cheek, his nose, his mouth, pulling him into a hug as they both visibly _relaxed_. Amanda wrapped herself back around Gripps and shivered.

 _Home_. They were home.

* * *

The rain continued to pour outside, and the sun had well and truly gone down. The only light inside the Van shone from the shitty torch that was tied to the hand rail by the rear doors. The Rowdy 3 (all six of them) were crowded in the back, and they had been talking for _hours_ , with varying levels of enthusiasm and frustration, filling each other in on the events of the last week; _had it only been a week_?

Amanda pressed her back against Gripps' chest, his thighs up at her sides as he held her and brushed her hair gently with his fingers; Vogel lay out at Drummer's feet, Beast sat atop his stomach playing at slapping his hands; and Martin sat in the corner by the doors, his arm draped over Cross' chest who leaned his whole weight against Martin's side, leg up on the bench. The windows of the van had steamed over entirely on the inside, all their bodies crammed together into such a small space. They'd only left a crack in the windows to let the smoke out.

"It's never safe for Normal's around us." Cross muttered as Amanda twisted her fingers together, the 'sinkhole' stuff leaving the 3 in an uncomfortably stunned silence "I think they've gotta start off strange to survive, man, or get strange _fast_."

Gripps nodded as Drummer squirmed miserably; "You're upset about it?"

"Yeah, I'm upset about it!" She was surprised at how loud it came out, tried to reel in her volume, instead losing control of her pitch - getting high and squeaky, "There was _nothing_ we could do, we were useless! Even if we had _all_ been there, we would have _still_ been useless. What was the point? I just-"

She gave up, as Martin took a drag of his cigarette and handed it to Cross, sharing again; "You can't save everybody, Drummer."

"Yeah that's too big, Boss." Vogel agreed.

"What do you mean? We saved an entire alternate universe, for fuck sake."

"I thought we saved, like, one kid." Gripps blinked.

"Yeah, so _he_ could save those crazy Canadians." Cross added.

The unexpected rippling giggle that passed between Martin and Amanda as they rolled their eyes lifted some of the tension.

She tried again to piece together her frustration for them; "I don't understand what the Universe wanted us to _do_ here, guys. We were supposed to stop it, I mean, we must have been, but... there was _nothing_. We've _always_ had the tools we need, and this time..."

Martin spoke; "So, maybe this wasn't about helping. Maybe just baring witness to their freaky-shit."

" _Why_?"

"It's like chess, or checkers, you give up some pieces to gain advantage later." Gripps offered, "Sometimes the best thing to do is free up some space, then watch and wait, see what the _next_ move is."

Amanda hated that answer, just like she hated everything she'd learned lately; it all seemed to mean hurting people, hurting _kids_. The fuckers backstage _sucked_.

"Some folks aren't going to want our help, Drummer." Cross stubbed out the butt of the cigarette on the metal floor at his feet, clearly not happy, "Book sure as _hell_ didn't."

"And some of 'em are gonna to be able to take care of themselves," Martin nodded, "like we can." 

"Wakti Wapnasi said I would save the Universe." Amanda rubbed her forehead, feeling misunderstood and overwhelmed.

"So you will." Martin agreed, to murmurs around the Van, "But that don't mean the same thing as ' _everybody'_ , does it?"

The conversation moved on.

* * *

"She kept calling Drummer my _girlfriend_." Cross said with an uncomfortable emphasis that took Amanda completely off guard.

Martin squirmed; "Are we _eight_?"

"Ew." Vogel shuddered, with the same juvenile revulsion he'd shown once before, a lifetime ago.

Amanda felt her mouth go dry, immediately uncomfortably incensed; "Hey, you guys have _literally_ fucked me, okay? What the hell?" 

"Yeah but you're not our _girlfriend_." Cross protested, "We won't _own you_ like _that_."

"What- Then what am I to you?" She felt a little sick, she only stopped short of calling herself a cum-bucket because she didn't know who it would hurt more to hear out loud - her or them.

"You're the Boss." Vogel smiled as Beast nodded above him.

"You're Drummer." Cross provided uselessly.

"You're _ours_." Martin breathed, leaning his head back against the side of the van, frustrated that she was frustrated.

Utterly confused by this conversation, Drummer was incredulous; "So I'm ' _yours_ ', but I'm _not_ your girlfriend?"

"Are we your boyfriends?" Cross asked pointedly, challenging her tone.

"Well, no..." And she thought about that point, since it was a good one; she had been _theirs'_ long before they had ever had sex - maybe from the moment she'd first climbed into their Van for a shitty beer. She had no doubt they were _hers_ too, probably from the first brick, but they were never going to take her on _dates_ (which was fine by her, she had never really given a shit about that kind of thing - and they didn't seem to either). She didn't fool herself into thinking this was a _romance_ , sure they'd swept her up off her feet and took her on some mad adventures, but it was nothing like the bullshit you saw in movies where they tried to tell people that fighting was proof of passion. Amanda always thought it proved a failure to fucking communicate. No, this was something else. An extension of a need? It wasn't just sex, there were feelings _absolutely_ involved, more than she'd really let herself consider, but... 'boyfriends'? Meeting their gazes again, her anger was gone, she got what they meant even if they were saying it in the shittiest way possible.

Martin grinned, she'd sort of forgotten how uncannily sensitive he was to things. Leaning in to tease her, his breath across Cross' ear made him squirm; "Wanna call us _partners_ , _lovers_ , _mates_?"

She couldn't help it, she smiled at him as he winked; "You're a _fucker_ is what you are."

"Maybe the words just don't exist yet." Gripps offered with a smile as he kissed the back of her head, "You're with us, you're _Rowdy_."

"Okay." Drummer muttered settling back against him, "I can live with that."

"You mean the world to us, Drummer." Martin sighed as he squeezed Cross' shoulder, "Don't doubt that. Even if we don't have the words."

"Besides, you have cooties." Vogel giggled as he tickled Beast and managed to flip her over.

"Vogel!" Amanda threw a shoe at him and he caught it, laughing, " _You're_ eight."

* * *

The Rowdy 3 slept in a messy heap in the rear of the Van. Vogel and Beast were pressed up against the back of the driver and passenger-seats, huddled next to where they'd piled the benches, under the one shitty flannel blanket. They'd made a tent out of it by using the headrests, because smaller spaces always made Beast feel safer. With their feet to the doors, the rest of the 3 squished together in a line; Martin, Cross, Amanda, Gripps. None of them had wanted to sleep up front, it was too _far away_.

So, instead they'd made a pile of a bunch of comforters they kept tied up on the roof under a tarp, for the cold ones, and lay down. There were enough bodies to mean there was no need for a blanket on top, but it was cramped. Amanda lay staring at the roof of the Van, her shoulder pressed up against Gripp's chest, her legs tangled with Cross'. Absently she picked out the edges of the torch, the vague shape of chains in the dark. She could hear their breathing, a mess of different rhythms and fidgets comforting in the quiet, but she couldn't sleep. There was too much in her head as she listened to them. The contradiction of contentment and guilt was stifling.

Sitting up, she slid forward on her ass and pushed open one of the doors as quietly as she could. The cold night air a little shocking as she pulled out a cigarette from the pack Martin had shoved into his boot for safe keeping, and lit it. The rain had stopped. The air was just foggy in the distance, where there were actual lights, and the moon was doing its best to put in an appearance. Amanda tucked her legs up inside the oversized shirt, and Gripps' gigantic hoody that she had changed into to sleep. Then she smoked in silence, poking at her toes through her stupidly fluffy socks for no particular reason.

This life yoyoed a lot. A moment passing in the dead of night, in silence and peace, was so unrecognisable from the madness of the day before. Reality kept swinging in and out of sense, and the Gog's reality had been, honestly... horrifyingly unforgiving. Drummer had gotten back to the Van, she had gotten home, but where were all those people going to be by now? Who was crying themselves to sleep, heartbroken? Who was struggling to find comfort on a rackety moving train? When would the Gog get to stop and rest again? Book had _so much distance to cover_ just to get back to her trailer, to her dog! Amanda sniffled, because here she was, in less than a day, back to normal - whatever normal was.

Someone behind her in the Van moved, and she shuffled to one side as a dark shadow only big enough to be Gripps turned to rest his back against the closed door next to her. She offered him a smoke to chew, and he took it from her gently.

"You doing alright in there, Drummer?" He whispered, leaning in to scrutinise what, she didn't know in the dark.

"I'm surviving, bud." She muttered puffing a cloud up into the sky, "Sorry if I woke you."

He shrugged; "Got a word for what you're feeling?"

"Lucky." She sighed, miserably.

"Your tone don't match the word, girl." The smile in his voice was apparent as she felt his knuckles brush her cheek, and she nodded.

"Not everybody has this kind of luck."

"Well, that ain't your fault."

"No, but it doesn't feel good knowing it sometimes."

"When was the last time you had this luck?"

"...Never?"

"Right, so maybe don't upset yourself so much."

"It doesn't hurt to have a little empathy for other people's shit, Gripps."

"True. You got enough of that for everybody?" She couldn't answer that, but his tone was so gentle, she knew it wasn't accusatory, "Sometimes, it's okay if the only person you get to save is _you_. It ain't that deep."

Amanda rubbed at her chest as she felt the Van jostle again, and the shape of Gripps edged closer to her. The warmth of his breath brushed against her skin as he pressed a heated kiss to her ear, then her cheek, the corner of her mouth. Ears pounding, she turned to meet his heavy lips, slow and sure, he lingered as he played with her hair.

"Come back to bed." He breathed, and she nodded but didn't really move, so neither did he.

"Do you guys... like me?" It was a stupid question, she knew they did, but she wasn't finding it easy to like herself.

Gripps kissed her all over again; "More than ever, more than anything."

" _Why_?" It seemed important, though she couldn't fathom why.

"A thousand million reasons."

"Yeah, well, give me _one_."

Gripps thought for a moment, then the smile was in his voice again, "You're fucking _rude_."

"What?"

"Like, when we first got you, you were timid, small. You flinched a lot." His hands were moving, and she lowered her legs to let him wrap into the fabric at her belly, tried not to think about how it sounded like he were describing a frightened dog or something, "But you _insulted_ us the first time you even spoke to us. You didn't ask to come with, you told us to take you. You got witchy, and fucking _mean with it_. You take up your space. It's great."

Amanda didn't quite know what to do with that, she had expected to be complimented on her appearance, or her entertainment value, maybe on what she _did_ for them. But, just like Cross, Gripps had focused in on something so useless to them, but that made up _her_.

His fingers pulled at the fabric on her belly and he whispered again; "Come back to bed."

This time she did, crawling inside and closing the door as Gripps held her hand and pulled her into his chest as they laid back down; _ah the little spoon_.

* * *

She couldn't really say how long she was awake for, her head cushioned against Gripps' arm as he breathed heavily over the back of her neck. Sleep just didn't seem to want to come to her as she worked out the shapes of Cross and Martin resting in the dark beside her. Licking her lips, she remembered their kiss, and pondered on how much affection passed between them that they hadn't begun to let her see. The Rowdy 3 could feel each other, _all the time,_ after all.

It had never really occurred to her that maybe they got from _each other_ what they also took from her. She wondered how overwhelming a literally shared desire must feel. Maybe that was why they were of the one mind on so many things. With a pang of jealousy Drummer thought about how much she must _miss_ , not being able to feel like they did.

Cross had been isolated from that feedback loop when he gave his anxiety to Amanda, but she hadn't felt anything from him since the grove, since she'd told him. Surely, he knew she didn't mind. It had been rough, but it was so _honest_. When he'd fucked her, and passed over his pleasure she-

She'd made a noise in the back of her throat, a little too needy to be sleepy. Flushing she felt Gripps jolt awake, the sensation of his deep inhale over the tip of her spine making goose-bumps. He swallowed, she heard it, and the electric buzz that rolled off of him made her shiver.

"You're still not sleeping, Drummer girl." He barely whispered, he could _smell her;_ lips brushing her ear as his hand slipped under her clothes, he pressed a hot palm against her belly and pulled her in to him by the ribs, "Let me fix that."

Gripps' fingers swept heavily up to her chest, squeezing her breasts, _hard_ , and her whole body juddered. He kept her tightly pressed against his torso, with his lips on her neck, in her hair, round her ears. She felt his tongue leaving lines on her skin and found it difficult to recall the way inhaling worked, exactly. Reaching up, she held onto the back of his neck, not wanting him to move away, needing him closer. He kneaded her tit, and at the same time circled her nipple firmly with two fingers until it was hard and tender and he could _squeeze_ it. Amanda's whole body writhed back, her hips squirming as her breathing got heavy in the quiet. She jostled Cross' knees as he slept, and she tried so hard to stay more still.

The arm he had let her use as a pillow flexed as Gripps' hand came up to direct her chin towards him. He captured her mouth with his, so much of his weight behind it as he swept his tongue in to slide against the edge of her own. His breath was like sparks as she opened for him. When she sucked his bottom lip out and squeezed the skin between her teeth, enamel cracked together. His kiss becoming harsh, as his hand hurriedly went to yank her hoody up and off.

Her oversized t-shirt had such a wide neckline, he could dig underneath it with his restricted hand to work her tits. So he did, roughly, keeping her nipples stimulated as he also reached straight down for her panties. He snapped the elastic loudly against her hips before stroking in under the fabric to squeeze her ass. Amanda swallowed hard as he pressed his wet open mouth against her shoulders, her throat, her shave, and whined when his fingers worked their way round to her clit and started rubbing.

They were awake now, she knew they were; Cross and Martin's eyes reflecting the dull moonlight from outside. Well within arms reach, they were just watching her. Drummer's hips rolled over Gripps' damnable digits, which he was only periodically pushing shallowly into her pussy, just to find some wetness, before going back to her nub with weighted purpose. He wanted her to cum just from this.

Reaching behind her she pulled up his shirt, because he was only in that and his boxers, and ran desperate fingers down his sides squeezing at his skin - he had actual love handles, unlike the other three. His slow circling tempo increased and Drummer whimpered, her whole ass rotated hard into his hips, where she could feel his erection growing. She grabbed at his thighs and brought him closer as he worked, taking her to a climax with no penetration at all. It wasn't explosive or mind-numbing, but it was steady and satisfying, and it made her whole body loosen up as her muscles fluttered. The dull red glow flowed around her as, eyes illuminating in the dark, Cross and Martin shared her with Gripps.

Before she had really even come down, Gripps was pulling his arm out from under her, and pushing her onto her front; yanking her panties down to her knees, over her ankles and straight off her feet. He shoved apart her thighs, and drove two fingers straight into her cunt from behind. She groaned so gutturally into the comforters she thought she felt the Van shake. Vogel _had_ to be awake now too.

Gripps got her t-shirt up and off, leaving bites up her spine as he finger-fucked her. Drummer heard him pull off his own shirt and then bundle up all three discarded garments. He smoothly lifted her hips, and shoved the bundle under. When he pressed her back down, her pelvis was raised, giving himself more to play with as he curved his digits and made her shudder. He forced a hand between Drummer and the bedding, kneading her breast unforgivingly. With her face buried in the comforter, Amanda's body rippled and jostled with his heavy intentional pace.

A hand ran over her ear, and into her hair that wasn't Gripps', occupied as he was with her cunt and her tits. His lips all over her body as he made her cry out brokenly and writhe for him. He kept bringing her to an edge and then backing off from it, she was buzzing. Dazedly Amanda turned her face out of the fabric, to look.

She saw Cross' glowing eyes staring back at her, and reached out to touch him too. He kissed her palm and licked her fingers, but his breath was harder than she thought it would be. Trying to find some damn focus she let her fingers travel back over his neck and into his hair, she felt rough lips graze her knuckles. Cross' head rocked forward rhythmically under her touch, as Martin's eyes peaked out from behind his head to drive teeth into Cross' shoulder.

"Fuck." Drummer choked, realising what the rhythm was and peaking down to see a pale arm in the moonlight, buried in Cross' crotch.

Eyes rolling to the back of her head, the arousal she felt pooling in her guts was fucking manic as Gripps added another finger - her pussy clenched. She wanted this harder, faster, she wanted to cum watching Martin _jacking Cross off_. She squirmed her hips back against the hand in her snatch and shuddered as, obligingly, a fourth finger slid in and Gripps started pumping _so much faster_.

Cross was letting out heavy broken breaths as she pressed her fingers up under his jaw to feel the beat of his blood. Her own responses were becoming obscene too, as her legs started to twitch and shake without her say so. She was cresting into an orgasm much stronger than the last one. She pulled Cross' face towards herself desperately.

"Cum-cum _with_ me." She begged and Cross mindlessly nodded.

Gripps curled his fingers and pressed in deep enough to make her whole body _roll_. When it hit her, when she came, she pushed so hard back against Gripps' hand that the Van actually _did_ shake. Burying her face in the comforter to muffle her faltering moan, she felt Cross' head roll back under her fingers and knew he'd done what she asked. Another burst of red, another feed, another sharing of pleasure - but this time it wasn't just hers.

Cross' body pulled away out of her grasp as Amanda felt Gripps mouth sinking into her folds. She wanted to scream and shatter, melt away like ice. Her muscles still twitching, his tongue dipped into her, and he licked and sucked up her cum, swallowing it down frantically. Then he was pushing her thighs together roughly, the length of his cock rubbing up and down her slit, getting slick, getting ready, and she kind of forgot what her own name was. She could hear shuffling around beside her, heavy kissing and baited breathing. 

Her head lolling back out to look for Cross, she was just in time to see him sliding down onto his front, practically mirroring her own position, except he was up on his knees. She heard clicking and moving, the shadow of Martin over him as Gripps pressed the head of himself _in_ , ever so slowly. Her pussy _stretched_.

With her thighs held together tightly by the weight of his body, Amanda's lips dragged over every fucking inch of him. His legs kept hers exactly where he wanted them, and her mouth fell agape as all the breath spilled out of her, strangled and astounded. He took it steadily, his body dropping down over hers, heavy and heated like a blanket, his skin so firm but soft at her bare back, it made her feel trapped but safe all at once.

That bundle of clothes at her pelvis made it possible for him to _get so deep._ She hadn't forgotten how big he was, but it surprised her again how, when she thought he'd crawled inside about as far as he could go, he was able to go even further. Amanda threw her hand back to push at his hip when it got too hard, though, when it hurt. He stopped, his breath strained in her ears as he kissed at her shoulders and spread fingers exploratively over every bit of her naked body he could reach with her pressed so tightly between him and the floor. Her pussy twitched, adjusting to his size as she clutched at the bedding and closed her eyes - the sensation of his cock was blissful.

Cross groaned loudly next to her, and her eyes flew open just in time to see him rocking forward hard, his face rolling into the comforter as he huffed, then pushed back roughly. _Oh God_ ; her cunt _squeezed_ at the sight of it, and Gripps actually rumbled; she felt it in _her_ chest. The shadow of Martin came down and she could almost hear him nuzzling into Cross' hair, over her own haggered breathing. His hips rutting forward into the other Rowdy's ass sharply, Cross just _snorted;_ he laughed, and heaved, and sighed with each thrust. Amanda _squirmed_. Wanting her own friction.

Gripps obliged, starting to pull out of her then push back in, in earnest. Amanda found herself whining with every full thrust. Her pussy had spread to take him, but with her lips held so tight together by his thighs, he could screw her rotten. She was incoherent as his breath filled her ears and he kissed at her. He wasn't working at the same pace as Martin, but he was speeding up the longer they went, until her cunt _could_ take that speed from him.

By the time she was being fucked as fast and firmly as Cross, she was edging up on another orgasm. One that felt like it was throttling every nerve in her body right down to her crotch. She was whining and heaving, reaching out for Cross' hand as he threw his head back, almost ready for another one of his own. He snatched Amanda's hand, crushing it to the floor as he tried his best to speak to her.

"Wanna- wanna feel it?" He choked out, and she nodded desperately.

Martin paused only briefly, to let Cross move over and press his forehead down against hers. Then Amanda could feel Martin fucking him, as though he were fucking her, but Gripps actually _was_ fucking her, so it all got a bit overwhelming and her legs started to shake so violently as she came they banged against the floor. Her body sucked and squeezed around Gripps so tightly he shuddered an expletive right in her ear. He opened his legs, to let her thighs spread, and she cried desperately as he got _deeper_. The air was so _red_.

It hurt, it really did, but as her pussy rolled around it, contracted and caressed all over Gripps' enormous dick, as she rode out the wave, she felt her body forget about it. She pushed up shallowly onto her own knees under him, and Gripps moved up to take her tits in his hands and rutted. She choked on him, it was so high in her cunt she could feel it hitting something. It hurt, god it _ached_ , and then it wouldn't hurt at all, instead it felt fucking _wonderful_. Looking down between herself and him in the dark, she felt him grab her hips, and knew he wasn't done yet. 

She felt rather than saw Martin and Cross collapsing to the floor, spent. Snatching back her own hand, she held onto the back of Gripps' neck with both of hers. She knew what he was going to try, and right now she was fuck-drunk enough to want him to, but if she wasn't holding him _somewhere_ she was going to push him off - automatic responses. Licking her lips, she nodded when he pressed his cheek against hers, and he just started pushing. Her knees shot up, trying to get way from him, so he drove heavy hands over her chest before he grabbed a-hold of her shoulders and yanked her right back down. She was shaking, she was writhing, when his hips actually hit against hers she almost sobbed.

He was pressing so hard against the root of her, it ached like a bruise. He wasn't pulling out. Fully sheathed in her. He bucked. Her body reacted all on its own, the shake going violently from the base of her back, up to her shoulders and down to her knees as her head rolled; it felt like she was fitting. It wasn't an orgasm, not _yet_ , but it made every muscle in her body go batshit. She wanted to scream but nothing came out. Gripps was swearing, breathless against her back.

"What was that?" Martin whispered, as Gripps finally released her shoulder and Amanda rocked forward almost all the way off of him, breathing like she'd been drowning.

"Did it hurt, man?" Cross leaned over to watch her as she heaved against the floor.

"Did it feel _good_?" Gripps whispered, pulling her back as she nodded, struck dumb, and he wormed his way back in, not as deep, but far enough that she struggled with it; "Can you cum like that?"

Amanda didn't know. She didn't know how many damn fingers and toes she had. All she knew was he was fucking her again before he really got his answer. He started off shallow, taking it easy, letting her get into it, then he'd just _push_. Arm wrapped heavily around her stomach to stop her pulling away, their hips would connect and the shaking would start and he'd rub at her thighs and squeeze at her tits with desperate fingers and he'd let her almost peak. Then he'd shove her off. Start again. It was fucking mind-boggling. Drummer couldn't string together a thought, she was just a cunt being shagged and that was it. When he started holding longer, his breath getting reedy; she knew he was closer than she was to cumming like this - and she was so fucking _close_.

Hectically she grabbed one of his hands and shoved it between her legs. She pushed back, meeting his hips herself with a strangled sort of yelp. Gripps took the hint and dived in to find her clit, rubbing maddeningly fast as he writhed in to the base. Her eyes lost their focus as everything started _twitching_ , but he was pulling away again too soon- Amanda's hands shot behind her to grab his ass and pull him in.

"Stay in." She gasped, "Cum there. Right there. Don't-"

He pressed in so heavily and suddenly her words got swallowed up by the comforter. When he bucked and rutted now it was right against that ache, and her whole body started on the mad throes he had caused before. He dug at her clit and kept going, a merciless beat inside her own body building to burst. She could feel his pulse.

She was shouting when she came. Every bit of her shaking out violently as her eyes just... stopped working. She felt him shoot his load so deep inside it made her dizzy. Their bodies locked together as her pussy eked every drop out like it was starved. So much _red_. Then he was falling one way, and she the other. Their sweat covered bodies slick as they heaved. Amanda shuddered, and spasmed as she felt Cross crowd in behind her. His fingers slipped down to her pussy and gently pressed in, she was open so wide but she still whimpered; _not more, surely_? Then Cross was bringing that hand up to his face to look at it.

"Fuck." He breathed watching the mingled juices of Gripps and Amanda slide over his digits.

Martin grabbed his wrist and shoved Cross' fingers into his own mouth, licking them clean. Her eyes rolled away from that obscenity and she found Vogel and Beast staring down at her. If anyone said anything, Amanda didn't hear it. She was asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -chucks notes into air-
> 
> I dunno man, I thought it would take me two chapters to get here, it only took me one.  
> The last chapter I thought would take me one, it took me four?  
> I've said it before, I'll say it again: idontknowwhati'mdoing
> 
> I hope you're all still enjoying reading this as much as I am writing it!  
> This was honestly my favourite chapter to write since Hashbury.


	12. Sloppy Seconds (explicit)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a lot of gratuitous porn today, lads.  
> That's right!  
> Everybody gets an orgasm!
> 
> Also, have a song lyric I really like:-
> 
> The first thing that happens is the world goes black  
> You just hear a little snap when your neck rolls back  
> You don't bite your tongue off, or foam at the lips  
> And before you hit the ground there's a moment of bliss  
> It's like toking a spliff, it's like shedding your skin  
> It's better than the best trainwreck there's even been  
> You have to let it in, as much as it's upsetting  
> To wake up with bruises you don't remember getting
> 
> By Watsky, Seizure Boy

Someone was drawing circles, hoops and swirls, round and round, spirals and curves. Sun peaked through the van windows. Her skin almost porcelain white in the pale light. Amanda's stomach was the paper gentle fingers looped, her belly-button, her ribs, the tender skin beneath her breasts. A chin settled in the curve of her waist, and greasy hair tickled her skin. Another hand slid over her leg, to the tender spot behind her knee. She blinked dazedly at the Van walls.

"Morning, Drummer." Cross whispered, his breath hot on her tummy.

Lips, a tongue, heavy sweeping licks, the tease of teeth. Her thighs ached to open, but they did. The beard around the mouth that was exploring her left a tingling trail. Martin. When he reached her core, Amanda licked her lips. He kissed _around_ her, at skin that never usually got attention unless you had an itch. Above and below, his tongue slow and cruel. Her hips rolled, and she settled onto her back. Cross followed her, still drawing circles.

Martin hugged her legs to his shoulders. Pressed his tongue up along her cunt and sucked at her tip. Amanda reached automatically for his hair, but Cross caught her wrist; brought both together, held them tightly above her head. Her chest stretched. She watched Martin spit. He watched her shudder at the feel of the drip on her clit. She watched Cross nuzzle at her tit. His breath was warm as water whilst he considered how to play with it.

His tongue danced around a nipple, leisurely. Until it was risen and ready. Then he took the whole breast in his mouth, and just _kept licking_. His mouth a new infinite shape on her body. With a heady inhale, Martin started to eat. All lips and tongue and _teeth_. Amanda closed her eyes. Enraptured. Shuddering at the sensations Martin elicited from her pussy. Twitching at the hoops Cross still pressed into her skin.

A hand full of rings went from kneading her thigh to creeping up her stomach. Nails leaving red crescents as they crawled along her flesh. Martin reached her chest and began to knead. The smooth metal on his hand in stark contrast with his callouses. It ached, how he touched her. She ground against his muzzle and felt her pussy alight with his smiling. His tongue slid _into_ her. Once, twice, a dozen times, until she was heaving at the twists, squeezing around the dips.

Then those circling fingers were on the move. Down, down, down. Cross passed her bellybutton, scratched approvingly through her pubic hair, slid on to her pussy's lips, spread her open. Martin lapped at his knuckles, pressed kisses to her stretching skin. The judder of Drummer when he sucked on her more-exposed clit was visceral. The jolt when Cross' middle finger slid round to rub the nub afterwards was _better_.

Together they worked her. They worked her until her legs curled up, and her head rolled back. Cross licked heavy arcs across her chest, up over her throat. Martin forced her thighs apart to bury himself in deeper, tongue desperate for the taste of her. Silent, entranced, she _came_.

The wave that spread out of her... from her pussy to the tips of her toes, to the roots of her hair, it was like static. The _pleasure_. They made it _last_. Together they got it to linger. Her body a bundle of buzzing nerves. Her cunt grasping and sucking and thanking them for the bliss. Was it a few seconds, a minute, an hour? The amount they _ate_. It was the single longest orgasm she had had in her life.

When they finally let it end, Martin rested his head against her pelvis, the hand on her chest falling still. Cross let go of her wrists. His legs tangled with Martin's, he couldn't really go anywhere. She didn't think to move either, as he nuzzled into her shoulder.

Fingers were sliding inside of her. Slowly, exploratively, with no real intent. One, two, three, four. Two different hands settling between folds, stroking skin, pushing walls. It stung a little, until it didn't. They just settled in to watch her, full of wanting and need and care.

"What you wanna do today?" Martin asked, his beard itching her stomach.

Amanda shrugged, not even sure she had actually woken up. Her eyes flickered closed as his wrist rolled, and his fingers turned. Biting her lip, she tried her very best to put some thought into it. What was there to do? No imminent visions to follow up on, no persistent paranoias vying for her attention. Was this to be their first unintentional moment of sedentarism? What a novelty. When had the last one been? _Before all the fucking started_ ; she smirked at herself.

"Had a thought there, Drummer?" Martin purred, kissing at her curled sticky hairs as Cross' fingers moved up, deeper, _searching_. He was watching her reactions so carefully.

Nodding, Amanda exhaled heavily, "We need to fix your door."

"Mhmm." Martin agreed as he slowly withdrew, then pushed back in, "Anything else?"

"Food... supplies." Her breath hitched when Cross stroked against something sensational.

"Can we _smash_ something?" Vogel crawled out from under his blanket-fort as Amanda smiled at him, he was wearing his favourite polka-dot red top and tighty-whiteys.

"Anything you want, Gobbo." She breathed as he came down to kiss her excitedly.

The fingers that played within her snatch were starting to find a pace, even if there was yet to be a purpose. Cross gently stroking that sensational spot that physically made her pussy quiver. Martin slipping in and out, slowly at first, but gathering speed, getting crueller. He wanted to see a cock doing it, he wanted someone, anyone, to be fucking her senseless.

"Thanks for sharing." She muttered, stretching her arms high above her head to clear out some of the cobwebs, her body arching like a feline as three different men appreciated it greatly.

Drummer continued to be smooched and nuzzled. Fingers slipping over folds. She saw Vogel's morning wood tenting his underwear, and reached for his thighs to drag him over. He yipped before she kissed at his cock through the fabric. Licked and gently dragged her teeth as he shuddered. On his hands and knees, he held his breath, and wobbled with unspent energy. She ran her lips over the tip of him. Her hands sliding up to squeeze his ass.

Vogel grabbed for both of her breasts at once. Martin's hand pushed away at his persistent insistence. Kneading and playing with such tender joysticks. A ringed fist had to take possession of her thigh, instead, and Martin sharply tilted her hips up. The change in angle was fortuitous. Cross could push in higher. Martin could add more fingers. Small pleasured gasps, their ultimate reward.

Scrabbling for something to touch, something to _do_ , Amanda freed Vogel's cock from his underwear. Kissed the soft warm skin of him _; lovely_. From base to tip he was showered with affection. Her tongue painting slick arcs over his silken surface. Then she was too. Heated, hungry, mad kisses littered every bit of her that the Rowdy 3 could reach; her stomach, her chest, her neck, her arms, her thighs.

When she brought the tip of him to her lips, Vogel's hand hectically came down. He touched her chin, stroked her cheek. Then guided himself inside her mouth in one fluid sudden sweep. She felt his thighs shake as his butt wiggled, and she giggled around him. Heard Vogel yelping, Martin swearing, a voice so heavy it could have been tar.

The fucking they were doing with their fingers was getting heavy. Was getting heady. Was getting _good_. She licked and sucked and tilted her head to take more of Vogel's cock. Pulled his ass down till she could feel the head at the top of her throat. The thought alone made her crotch pulse, and this wasn't even a _thought_. His hips bucked, and she gagged on it as he went down. Vogel pulled away, mortified. And she chased his dick with a whine.

Cross grabbed hold of Vogel's shirt, keeping him down and roughly kissing his forehead, halting his retreat with a smile; "Don't worry, man, she _likes_ it. A _lot_."

Amanda nodded biting her lips and pawing at his thighs as Vogel curled up over her face. Kissing her forehead apologetically, he stroked her cheeks. She continued to nod her ascent further, could tell he wasn't sure. That he wanted to be _sure_. 

"Tell you what," she whispered conspiratorially, so really only he could hear her, "if I need you to pull out, I'll tap your ass." and she patted his butt-cheeks, then gave him a playful squeeze, pleased it made him wiggle and snort.

Martin suddenly rotated his hand. Spread her pussy. His fingers pumping rough. Amanda's back arched up as she took it, astounded panting. Vogel's eyes roamed her distractedly gratified face, as though he'd forgotten what she looked like. Then her tongue lolled out hungrily to welcome him and he rushed in to meet it. His dick passing between her teeth in a flurry of movement. She pulled him up tight and moaned with satisfaction. He shuddered at the thrum of it, hips gyrating for the pleasure.

"You can fuck her like that." Cross encouraged, breathless, and she affirmed the comment against his skin; **_please_** _fuck me like this_.

So he did. His mouth luxuriating over her stomach. His hands on her sides, up her thighs, over her bum. He fucked her mouth like he would her pussy. Fast. Hectic. Slick. She choked on it. Sucked at it. Felt herself drooling over it. Mindless. She stroked at his legs. Squeezed his ass. Let him know with every gag and gasp that she was absolutely fine. Cross went back to work.

His illustrated fingers circled that place inside of her, over and over and over. Not providing enough pressure, nor enough force, just teasing her with its potential. The beat in her pussy was getting urgent for release. The more they played, the more they fucked, the more their noises about her grew obscene, the more she wanted to cum for them. So, she pushed her hips against busy hands demanding _more._ She knew they were holding back. Giving Vogel time. Giving her space. _Well fuck that, get after it_. 

It was another one of those moments where they all seemed to follow what she'd thought. Cross suddenly stopped teasing. His fingers driving in hard against what she just decided to assume was her g-spot. Martin shoved in so deep and harsh her body curled and bucked. Then he was fucking her unforgivingly with his hand, like she knew he could with his dick. Her eyes rolled. Rutting her hips to meet their rhythm. Their combined efforts working her up to an edge so fast it was electrifying.

Vogel heaved and whined and shook, his hips routing. Eyes latched onto the men in her snatch. He rocked up, hands appreciably squeezing down on her breasts. Fondling, he fucked her with his weight heavy on her chest. It was surreal. She felt trapped, but altogether safe... all over again. When she gagged this time, he ground in low, _so close_ to his own release.

When Amanda came she _groaned_. The vibration of it reverberating thick around his cock. And Vogel shot his load with a small surprised yelp. The air surged with red, the pile of bodies in the back of the Rowdy Van frozen. Euphoric. He was pouring every drop into her mouth, until his dick softened. Slowly, shakily, Vogel pulled away. Sitting back on his feet, thighs either side of her ears. He looked down at her dazedly, and she opened her mouth to show him his juices. As he rubbed his eyes, astounded, he shivered.

"How do you do that?" he asked quietly, and she scrunched her eyebrows at him bemused, "You're _so_ pretty."

Touched, Drummer closed her mouth to swallow. He tasted so sweet. He ate so much sugar. Reaching up for him, she kissed him gratefully. Thought he was _very_ pretty too. Then fingers slipped out of her pussy, and she gasped into his tender caress. She was empty. Looking down she held her breath, met Martin's burning unwavering gaze.

"Can we?" Vogel whispered, asking for all the things they wanted to do with her, to her, in her; she nodded not looking away from those hungry eyes.

" _Finally_." Martin grated.

His underwear was down and he was pushing inside of her so fast she barely had time to think. Martin's crooked cock filling her up so suddenly her whole body convulsed. The echo of her ache from the night before, there for only an instant. Pulling off his wife-beater, Martin yanked her legs up against his chest, feet at the shoulders. Rubbing harsh lines down her thighs, over her ass, into the crack. His cock grinding in, until she was pressed against his pelvis like a jigsaw piece. Her butt raised from the floor to take him.

Hands moving firmly to clutch and control her hips, Martin tilted her crotch just so and pounded in unrestrained. The Van shook. Skin slapped. Gasping and whining, Amanda could see the muscles of her stomach bouncing and had to look away. Grasping at Vogel's thighs, she bit at his skin desperately. That _notch_ in his _cock_. He was slamming against that _spot_. The one Cross had. Only _he_ wasn't teasing. No, he wasn't teasing at all.

She could feel Cross stroking her heaving ribs. Knew Vogel was tweaking her tits. Thought she heard Gripps stirring from sleep. But she was descending into fuck-drunk _fast_. He screwed her raw and ragged. Every sound from her obscene. The pace of it mad. Gasping and growling, he was reaching for her neck. He never let up. Her hips _had_ to follow him as he surged forward. The pressure in her snatch was like sparks. 

Closing a hand around her throat, Martin cut her laboured breathing short. His cock thrusting in and out like a piston. He watched her face redden. Heard her uselessly try to inhale. Her eyes met his in the madness of movement. The edges of her vision blackening. She could see in his eyes; he wasn't planning on hurting her. He was _pleasing_ her, to please himself. She rolled her head back. Giving over trust to this unforgiving fuck that had her so close to _another_ release already.

When he let go, her heaving gasping inhale was followed by a strangled ecstatic whine. Her whole chest arced up into Vogel's hands. She came so hard her vision went spotty. Red. Red. Red. In her guts. In her head. Every bit of her core closed in around Martin's cock. His hips slamming up against her ass and _staying there_.

Rolling his crotch into it, his head lolled back with pleasure; " _Yesss_."

He rutted and squirmed, his pelvis rubbing hard against her clit. She shook in the throes. Lost. Spent. Desperate. Wanting. His cock was _still_ hard. Still buried inside her. The feral grin as he bit his lips. Amanda wanted him to bust, burst, spill, squirt. Wanted the pulse of it, the rush of it. Her sight spinning around the Van, so many glowing eyes looked right back at her. She wanted them in everything. In everywhere. Every damn orifice. Her pussy sang. Was she high?

Drummer's legs slid from his chest. Feet thudding down on either side of him, boneless. He withdrew. All the way to the very tip. His hands suddenly soft, suddenly careful. Fingers juddering down her sternum, nails chipped black. Stroking her stomach he curled in to kiss at her pubes. Captivated by her body, Martin lifted her knees from that same tender curve with which he had begun.

Littering her shins with kisses, he tucked her limbs in firmly under his arms. That cock pushed back up slow, gentle, hips rotating passed the entry. He brought everything down. His weight, her legs, his head, their hands. Every bit of space around her becoming just _him_. Vogel scooted back. Cross sat up to take in the view. She was curled up like a ball, filled with all of him. Martin's hands scratched up into her hair. His warm chest pressed heavy to her tits. Breathing like a ripple between their sweat-slicked stomachs.

Pressing his forehead to hers, she felt the surge of him sharing like it was a _burn_. She may have even hissed. With Cross, his feelings had mingled so gently in with her own that she almost couldn't differentiate between them until they were separate again. With Martin, though, it was a tsunami of erratic alien connections so thick in her head it was like drowning. How a cock felt buried in a pussy. How close he was to bliss. How erotic the sight of a writhing body sheathed on him was. It was all so guttural, untamed, just raw arousal. She could taste Christmas cookies. That was all at the forefront.

But as she got over the initial shock, she found a train of emotion in her head that was overwhelmingly sentimental. Less coherent than Cross' but more... shapely. She could pick out the things behind. _Her_ , over and over and over again, desperate and awed, adoring and wild. The Rowdy 3 swimming in and out of the periphery; concern and love and primal protective need. Deeper still, buried at some root, was... violence and hunger; a readiness for it, a weariness of it, a contradictory excitement to find something to fill it.

She could feel the shadow of a hundred punches on a little boy turned grown man. Where her flight response cried out, his fight reared. He would defend himself, once, twice, three times, four. It was the only thing he knew _how to do_ to get himself _out_. Amanda recalled his foster mom, how she kicked him to the curb; he was just a kid being fed through the system. Such long stretches of feeling... _nothing_. But, then it wasn't just a 'him' problem anymore, it was an 'us'. The boys. The freak-zoo. A sense of purpose swelled, it was enormous. Then she got a flicker of herself again. Did- Did that smell like _hope_?

Amanda pulled her head away carefully, not wanting to reject him, but needing the space. The weight lifted, but the memory of it... Above her, Martin's face was utterly unguarded for, perhaps, the first time since she'd met him. He looked so young and so old, all at once. She wanted to cry for him, for all of them, for all the love and affection she wished she could go back in time and give to them.

Maybe that's what this was, or _could be_. These moments of intoxicating intimacy. Making up for the lost, the missed, the failed, mothers and lovers and friends. Everything stopped for these moments. Just for a while. It couldn't make up for a lifetime, but she hoped it could be enough for them. She hoped _she_ was enough.

His eyes on hers were gentle, concerned. He could follow her emotions, even if he could not pick up the thought. So, she reached up to meet him. He was kissing her, then. Open mouthed and rasping. Partaking of the very air of her. He slowly worked himself in and out, his sex beginning to toil with care. He'd done her the way he _needed_ , now he was doing her they way he also _wanted_.

Amanda's arms wrapped around him. Hugging closer, stroking his hair. She was encasing him with her body almost as much as he was her. Supplying his mouth with all the affection she could muster. His cock was a treasure as he ground it up inside of her. When she started again on her pleasured little whimpers, right against his tongue, he stopped kissing just to look. Her eyes flickered closed from the pleasure in her pussy, and the whine she heard him make at the sight of her was like a puppy beset. 

Opening them to see him again, a tattooed hand ran gently over his shave. Pulled him by the cheek to look aside. Cross kissed him. She watched tongues sliding between mouths and felt herself _ache_. To see it. To know it. To be part of it. Her thighs squeezed against Martin's sides. His attention split between them, he pulled her in tightly. Fucked her with purpose. Not quicker. Not harder. Just with a burning intent that filled her bones with static. His hips rolled into her over and over, with a rhythm of bliss that had her breath hitching. There was no rush for this.

As Martin began to gulp into Cross' mouth, seemingly unable to catch his breath, Amanda knew he was getting close. So was she. Aroused beyond anything she could have imagined watching them swap spit. When it was time, Cross shoved Martin away with a cheeky grin.

Lips were back with hers in an instant. Martin's tongue juddering in for her taste. Sharing air and sweat and skin. Legs spreading wider as to push in deeper, he brought his body in close. Fingers twining with hers, they stretched their arms high above their heads. Chests bouncing together as his cock grew insistent. She felt his nipples dance against her own.

When he came, with shuddering shaking pants, so did she. Her legs sliding up to wrap around his back, keeping him close, keeping him inside her. She felt him spill it all and her pussy throbbed to take it. That relentless vice at her core massaging him wantonly as she tipped over into blind euphoric bliss. She felt herself cry out, but heard nothing beyond his laboured breathing. The energy seeping out of them both as the air swam red.

He continued to fuck her until he was soft and sliding out. The drip of him slipping between her ass cheeks as he collapsed onto her chest. Listening to her heart beating rapturously behind her ribs. As their fingers unknitted, and Amanda was able to bring her arms down. It was her turn to draw circles over someone else's skin. Her turn to feel muscles twitch and hear breaths skip. She kissed at his forehead and smiled to herself. Something had passed between the Rowdy 3 unsaid but understood; Martin needed a minute. He could have all the time in the world, as far as Drummer was concerned.

Her eyes swept around the Van to check in with the others. Vogel was grinning at her, bouncing atop the feet he sat on, his dick already back to being half-hard; Cross lay naked propped up on his side, playing a full-on-erection in his hand lazily as he met her eyes; Gripps _was_ awake staring at the ceiling, nursing a semi as he bit his lip and pointedly wasn't looking their way, in the same state of dress he had fallen asleep in - bare; then there was Beast, quietly curled up in the blanket fort, watching.

Amanda distantly wondered if she understood what she saw when they did this. The wild-thing had been fond of Dirk but was sex even a _thing_ in Wendimoor? It was an alternate reality literally created by a small child, full of Munchkin people and slug-like Witchakookoos. People had kids there, sure, but did they make them the _Earth_ way or did they just pop into existence when folk decided they wanted one? Beast wasn't a child in either reality, so this wasn't like catching your parents fucking. Drummer wasn't getting pregnant either, not with a coil.

Offering her hand out to the rainbow-girl, Drummer wanted to make sure it was understood that she was okay; more than okay, _wonderful_. Beast met her fingers and squeezed them before settling back down just to... look. And Drummer was only vaguely surprised at how readily she had become accustomed to other people watching her fuck. People had always stared at her suffering from pain and fear without her damn permission. So now the people who never judged her, or ridiculed her, were welcome to see every bit of her. Enjoy seeing her unfettered. It made her feel powerful.

Looking to Cross, she had a random thought; "Do I taste like strawberries to you when we fuck?" the Rowdy nodded with a fond smile, and she stroked Martin's hair to get his attention next, "But, not to you. To you I taste like... cinnamon?"

He nodded against her breasts as Gripps un-bit his lip and offered his own flavourings; "It's like real sweet hot cocoa to me."

"The sugary crust on a warm apple pie." Vogel provided before she could ask, coming down in a tight little ball beside her head and rubbing his nose into her shave in a silly fashion.

"Okay. Then what about the rest?" She pursued, cradling Martin affectionately as he seemed to start coming round, "Cross said my attacks taste like liquor and dandelions-"

"Dandelions?!" Gripps came up on his elbows, appalled.

"That's what he said!" Amanda laughed.

"That's what I said!" He confirmed proudly.

"Nah, nah, nah, " Gripps objected, "It's like licking a battery, but like a _big one._ A car battery. Sticking jumper cables to your tongue."

Then Vogel was in on the mix; "Do you remember those Toxic Waste sweets from when you were a kid?" Drummer nodded, "If you ate too many they'd burn a layer of skin off the inside of your cheek! It's like _that_ , just so super sour."

"Heat." Martin purred kissing her sternum, "The burn from a chilli-pepper."

Curiosity sated, a comfortable silence fell and eyes drifted back down from Drummer's amused face, to her naked form. The air grew heavy as they watched her ribs expand and contract, her stomach lift and fall. Cross let go of himself. Reached out. He pushed her arm up and away as she met his gaze. His fingers sliding over her tit. Tattoos above his knuckles. He brushed along Martin's nose before he pointedly circled her nipple.

Scooting in to nuzzle her cheek, his cock pressed up on her side. Cross and Drummer kissed. Lots of little ones. His breath hot over her nose. Three sets of thighs rubbed together. Martin huffed, began the arduous task of rolling out of their way. And it was cold when he was gone, all open and exposed, vulnerable. Amanda's hand followed him over as he collapsed back beside Gripps. Touching fingers in a lazy handshake. She stroked the tender skin on his side. Ran her tongue over Cross' teeth.

His illustrated digits left her chest, drifting south, sliding over her folds. She could tell with the way they slipped she was messy. The strained groan that came out heavy against her lips as he rubbed into it told her how much he _liked_ that. She spread her thighs to welcome him. In a flurry, they were moving. 

Sitting up, he pushed in under her back. Lifting and turning, Cross man-handled Amanda to straddle his lap. Arms around his neck, he pulled her in tight to his picture-pocked torso. She adored the warmth in his chest. Hovering over his cock, they smiled at each other. His hands spread wide over her skin. Running up and down her body, in deep heated grooves. Along her spine, up her sides, over her chest. His lips danced across her neck, her jaw, her collarbone. He squeezed her ass and giggled at the way her muscles tensed.

Breathless and crowded, Amanda ran knuckles over his shoulders. Down to his hips. She scratched a long heavy line back up. Felt his body arc against hers. The tip of him teasing. She smirked and kissed the very end of his nose. Then he was distracted, taking a teat between his teeth.

Amanda sank her hips. Taking in the heat of him. Only an inch, maybe even two. Felt the throb of his cock around the edges of her pussy. Waited for his head to loll back before she rolled herself around him. He stared at her, mouth ajar. She continued to drop, slowly, eyes locked with his. Both gasping at the sensation of taking and being took. In to the hilt. So straight and long, filling up to her rim. Her cunt twitched about it.

Grinding herself forward in a wide sweeping circle, over and over and over again. Her pace was maddeningly slow. Enjoying the way his eyebrows knit together and his bottom lip quivered. The friction itself, the root of his cock against her clit, the end of his shaft buried so far inside her pussy, it was all intensely satisfying. For a while he just let her fuck him. Whimpering and panting into her mouth as she controlled the rhythm.

No matter how nice it was, though, Drummer wasn't going cum like this. And that was all he wanted. Her cumming. So, at some point his stroking hands found their way to her hips, following her motions for a little bit longer. Until nails were digging in.

Roughly he pulled her forward, and then pushed her back in a series of quick heated shifts. Amanda's hitching moan was something obscene. He played with the tempo, having her take him quick. Then bringing it down slow. Her body arched away like the angle was too low. Distractedly, they heard shuffling.

Cross leaned back with one hand to give himself some torque. Get himself positioned so he could fuck up into her. Pump up hard. Her body bounced against his hips when he got it right. Her crotch circled and shifted however he pleased, and what pleased him was making her feel _good_. She gripped at his shoulders with frantic fingers as pressure built, but did not go over. She teetered on the edge breathless, aching.

Then she jolted in surprise. Hands sweeping from behind to take her breasts. Lips pressing in against her hairline. A mouth lapped at her skin and her nipples were rolled between fidgeting fingers. Reaching back, of course she recognised Vogel. He must have crawled round. Laughing, she gripped at the fabric of his shirt and rode Cross' dick in front of him. The straight sublime length inside her shifting, tweaking, perfecting, almost getting it _right_.

"Come on." Cross huffed in jovial exacerbation, dropping onto his back entirely.

Using his feet for leverage Cross fucked up so hard she yelped. Her hands flying to the ones he held her with. He yanked at and ground her hips down on top of him. Then did it again, over and over until she was _finally_ clamping and shuddering. _Cumming_. For him. All over him. Her hips juddering and her thighs shaking as her hands scratched forward over his chest, leaving marks. He closed his eyes and revelled. The air hissing red. Rutting up to draw out the sensation as much as his cum-loving cock could.

But then Amanda was being pushed forward, up and off. The interrupted pair complaining incoherently at the sudden loss of contact. Then she was _squealing_. Fingers dancing and jabbing over her ribs, making her writhe and smack at her sides. Vogel laughed, because he _knew_ she was a grown-ass woman who was _still_ fucking ticklish. Cross snickered up at them, stupefied.

"Gobbo-" She choked on an involuntary laughing snort as he managed to dodge her resistance, "Gobbo don't be a dick!"

But he _was_ being a dick. Hyperactive and buzzing. Utterly un-distractible in his distractibility. Drummer had to smack her back hard against his chest just to seize the upper hand, by making him lose his balance. Hands flew to her waist as he went to steady himself, and she grabbed them, bundling his digits into useless fists. Pulling his arms across her torso, she restrained him against her naked flesh. Giggling, still twitching with unspent _stuff_ , his breath fast and frantic, he started to kiss her shoulders, her neck, her back, her shave.

"Hey- Hey!" She turned her head to look at him, unable to seem in any way displeased as he pecked her nose and nuzzled her cheek, "Focus, buddy."

"Okay." He gasped, and she jolted as his fingers snapped open to seize her breasts like _her_ hands had had no strength to them at all.

Swallowing as his teeth slid up the back of her neck, she shivered. It was always so easy to forget he was as dangerous as _any_ of them. Vogel _bit_ as he pitched his hips forward, and she felt him slide between her thighs, and spread his way inside her pussy with one fluid, slick, switch. She was suddenly so _full_ again. Sighing with delight, his breath in her ear rose goose-flesh.

She _adored_ the feel of him. He was short but _thick_. He could create so much friction in her folds just by moving only a little. A _lovely_ cock. With her hands over his, he kneaded her breasts hard enough to hurt, and her hips ground back into him. There was no build up from that, no gentle beginnings. Vogel went off at an immediate and tenacious pace. Amanda moaning brokenly, body arching against him.

"Do y- do you see this?" Cross gawped, gesturing for Martin and Gripps to partake of the travesty before him, "This guy stole my ride!"

Laughing, unapologetic, Drummer looked down to see the shadow of their bodies writhing over him. She glanced aside. Saw Martin sat watching with his back to the Van wall, arms perched on his knees; Gripps right next to him, no longer a nursing a semi but jacking himself off; _fucking ay, bud_. Drummer's pussy quivered, already overly sensitive to any damnable sensation, never mind a flood of fresh arousal at the sight of that magnificent rod.

Her head fell back against Vogel's shoulder. The change in style, in beat, in size, in caress. It was throwing her for a loop. She didn't know where to look, what to do, if there was something she should be touching, where her body ought to go. She just knew the shirt he wore, rubbing up against her back, was too _foreign_. There wasn't enough _skin_. So, she elected to grab for the collar at the back of his neck, and yank it over and off. Chucking it into the driver's cabin, his chest pressed flush against her spine. Warm and hard and wiry.

His hands slid over every bit of flesh he could reach; her stomach, her thighs, her tits, her shoulders. Fast and manic. Breath heavy in her ears. She grabbed hold of the handrail with one hand, his ass with the other, and determined she was happy to just let him _have her_. Eyes rolling to the ceiling, Drummer's thighs gave a violent shake as Vogel circled his crotch up shudderingly. Rutting against her ass as she spread and shifted for him.

"Pull my hair." She whispered, and he did, her head jerking back, scalp sizzling, his mouth spread against her shave; the arch he made of her spine making everything _better_.

Shifting his legs out from under them, Cross rose to sit on his feet. Stroking himself lazily, his face was practically touching Amanda's. Chewing his thumb, thoughtful, he watched her body give hectic jerks and twitches. She whimpered against his lips as he hungrily studied her delectably addled expression. Pressing forward, even further into her space, he was right by her ear. He absolutely did _not_ touch her.

She could hear his breathing mix with Vogel's; "You should stick your fingers in her."

Vogel panted his agreement as Drummer's whole bottom half went a bit tingly. The hand he'd been playing her tit with rolled hurriedly down to her ass. His fingers adulating the tender flesh between her cheeks, he rubbed around the place where her cunt was swallowing his dick so readily. Cross was back in her face when Vogel shoved his fingers in, smiling as Amanda's eyes widened and her mouth gaped. Her hips weaved with the arc Vogel twisted around himself inside her snatch. Digits parting to run alongside his own dick, he didn't pump, he _stroked_.

His fingers drew quick stupendous little arcs alongside his ever rapid fuck. Both her hands rushed to his ass, pulling him in harder as the grip in her hair tightened and released, tightened and released. Her scalp _sang_. Overwhelmed by the movement, she squeezed at his smooth tight skin trying to get some control over him. The rush of sensation in her pussy was radiant. Whining hard, she was about ready to cum again.

Curling forward, Cross slammed his mouth into hers. Licked and nipped at her as Vogel did the same across her bare skin. He was starting to shudder. Close to his edge. About ready to tip over with her. She felt thumbs and fingers come between their lips. Opened her eyes to see Cross suck on his own hand then reach for her pussy. Her bottom half hitched harshly when he unforgivingly rubbed up against her clit. Erratic and hard, he started teasing. _Everything_ was starting to _twitch_.

Vogel's pelvis slapped against her ass as he bit at her shoulder, and Cross drove his tongue passed Drummer's teeth. The Rowdy who was balls deep inside her, licked at her shave like a thirsty dog. Her pussy mercilessly started to clamp. Closing her eyes, she was rushed by the tang of orgasm, growing incoherent in Cross' mouth. Both of them pushing hard and _fast_ , her hips violently hitching up. Cross pinched at her clitoris and that was _it._ She was _over_. There was such a rapturous buzz of red.

Vogel slammed inside her. Desperately she smacked at his ass before digging her fingers in and bucking. The charged explosive pulse of her core came down like a vice around Vogel's exquisitely squirting dick. She heaved. Shaking forward against Cross' chest as the sensation of electric-bliss ricocheted through every sodding muscle. He held her steady as her body did whatever it had to, rippling with the wave.

When she was done, Vogel was letting go of her hair, spreading kisses over her back all the way down to her ass. Rolling onto the floor, he keeled over, spent. Chortling breathlessly to himself. Head still buried in Cross's chest, Amanda fell back onto her own feet, unable to hold her own weight for a minute. His palm slid down to cup her soaking pussy, stroking it like a cat.

"Think _I_ can have you back now, man?" Cross chortled, a forceful set of fingers pushing in to rub at her roots.

Giggling breathlessly, Drummer rolled her head back, and Cross looked into her pleasantly dazed face. She wondered if he'd just let her lie down and be lazy. With his forehead pressing against hers, though, the beat in her crotch as he shared was astounding. There were no words, but the feeling was clear; _cum on his cock, cum for him, buddy_. She bounced, manic, exceedingly oversexed, with him smiling against her lips.

He kissed her. Wrapping his arm around her waist. He raised both of them onto their knees. Once again they were pressed skin to skin, rib to rib, tummy to tummy. They kissed. Her arms weaving up over his shoulders, fingers sliding through his hair. They kissed. It was how they breathed. Tongues clashing and teeth clacking.

With his fingers still pressed against her juiced core, he buried all four digits deep in her hole. Playing her clit lazily with his thumb. She pushed at his shoulders, lifted herself uselessly as she whimpered. It was so easy for him, she was so slick. She could only _imagine_ the state she was in. Licking at her exposed neck, he seemed to have the same consideration. Pulling out and pushing her over, he guided her down onto her front, ass in the air, facing away from him. Spreading her skin apart he just took a good look at her dripping slit.

"Fuck, you're so sloppy." He breathed heavily, his tone so stunningly aroused it made her shiver; she closed her eyes to the rising flush of pink in her cheeks.

Then his face was buried in her. His tongue lapping, and his mouth sucking down every drop. Her brain fizzed and popped. Everything about her cunt was overstimulated, so utterly _used_. Coming up onto her hands, her back arched and her hips bucked. Shuddering for breath, she looked up only to get an eyeful of Gripps. A sheen of pre-cum at the tip of his dick, fist pumping.

 _Oh jeez_ ; she wanted _that_. She wanted that _too_. Why was it _like this_? Was this what it was for _them_? Always wanting to _consume_? She looked at Gripps' and Martin's craven faces and felt her body judder from their attention. Were they _sharing_ all their wily fucking wants now? Was this how much they'd _wanted_ her? It was crawling under her skin. She'd been right. Shared desire was a _fucking trip_. 

Amanda crawled forward. Leaving Cross chasing after her ass as she wrapped her hands around soft sweltering skin. Gripps hissed in ecstatic surprise, his hands jumping up to her hair as she started jacking him tightly.

"No. No, it's alright Drummer girl." He huffed at her, "You don't gotta do that. You don't gotta push it. It's just mechanics. I can see to this-"

Protests ended as soon as her tongue heavily circled his leaking tip, pressing in to clean him. His head hit the Van wall as a string of expletives filled the air. Amanda heard a couple of muffled laughs. Squeezing with one hand, and playing his balls with the other, she licked down the shaft and relished in making his hips rise to meet her. He was too big for a comfortable deepthroat, but as his hands tangled in to the roots, he directed her to most pleasing places.

Only as she settled her mouth wholly around him, did she feel Cross' dick sliding in. One fluid lengthy delicious _push_. She rolled forward with the motion of it, Gripps' cock hitting the back of her throat and pushing on down. A groan rattled wetly out of her when Cross' hips came flush with her ass. Her shuddering had Gripps' eyes spinning, biting his tongue. He bucked. She gagged and pulled off, gasping.

Now, the initial push may have been steady, but Cross wasn't wasting any more time. Not now it was _his_ turn. As he watched Amanda take Gripps back into her mouth, he yanked her hips up high. Hunched up onto his feet. The Van shook as he took hold of her with one hand, the rail with the other and started fucking her, _hard_.

His cock rubbed _down_ at this angle, sliding right along that sensational _spot_ he'd played with before. Drummer heaved and shivered, having to pull off of Gripps to breathe whenever she was stroked inside _just_ right. Sometimes Cross would miss it, but then he'd just rut in sharply to make her gag over Gripps. He did that more than once. The longer they went on, the more consistently he was hitting the nail right on the head, though. 

Amanda was losing all sense of sanity. Plugged at both ends, her pussy was _quaking._ She felt about ready to burst, like a dam whose walls were cracking. There was so much pressure on the verge of being released. She couldn't concentrate on anything as she looked desperately up at Gripps. Cross shagging her into his crotch brutally. It was so quick coming. She was ready, she was-

"I'm sorry-" Her voice wavered almost tearfully with each persistent heavy thrust, "I'm- he's making me- I can't-"

"That's alright." Gripps leaned in to kiss her forehead as she uselessly hugged his cock to her neck and whined, "Let me see. Let it go."

She didn't mean to take him so _literally_. From the ass upwards her body arched, shook, jolted. To see it, it was like a slinky bouncing down some stairs. Her breaths came out in broken heaving pants. Pushing back hard against Cross' cock, she did just _let go_. When her pussy unleashed its relentless clutching grip, she honestly sobbed. It was incredible. Every nerve a spark of rapture as _something_ poured out of her.

Burying her face in Gripps' stomach there was a surge of warm slick satisfying _wet_. The air burned red and, oblivious at first, Cross kept pushing his way in to grind against her writhing muscles. But then his thighs were getting covered, and he looked down at their sex in surprise.

"No fucking way!" Banging to his knees and scooping the wetness off his skin, Cross licked it from his fingers, amazed, "You squirted?"

Still in the hectic shaking throes, Drummer squeaked hysterically; "Did I?"

So many hands were suddenly all over her. Inked arms pulling her up flush against a chest. The Rowdy 3 were sliding over slicked soaking thighs. Rubbing up into her crotch. Pressing down on folds as Cross' dick throbbed under her clutching squirming muscles. Four different sets of fingers caressed and teased her spasming core. All of them wanting to feel, taste, _see_ what she'd done. She was so fucking drunk on it all, the cum leaking out of her hardly registered as real. 

"Can you do it _again_?" Who even asked? She didn't know she could do it the _first_ time.

Amanda jerked when Martin's fingers rubbed down between her ass to slide up along the seam where she and Cross locked, teeth nipping at her shoulder. Shuddered at the sensation of warm air on her thighs, Vogel squirmed between two sets of splayed legs. His nose ran up her flesh, his tongue swirled over not just her cunt but Cross' cock. She gyrated mindlessly as Cross bucked with a choked sound against her spine. Convulsed as Gripps gently took a teat into his mouth and started to suckle, his hand squeezing her other breast firmly. 

When Vogel latched onto her clit, started working it in hard unforgiving little circles, she would feel him break away to slather Cross with split. The Rowdy above him, buried in her, unable to comprehend the sensation, just fucked up at the pussy in front of him harder than he meant to. Amanda keened, grabbing onto Vogel's hair and pulling him in closer. Martin dragged her mouth to his as he stroked long slow lines around her pussy and Cross gave a few languid apologetic after-thrusts. She didn't want him to _apologise_. Reaching behind, she pulled his ass in rough and he took the hint. Shoved up into her over and over as his hands held her upright. She hitched and panted against Martin's tongue. Overstimulated and overwhelmed, Drummer came _too quick_. It was a short burst of sudden captivating, brainless pleasure. It sated her pussy for only a moment, really, before it ebbed away, useless (at least for what they were after).

She swallowed, breathless, almost at her limit, because they _wanted_ fresh juice; "Angle- angle's not right. We didn't do it right."

Nodding against her neck, Cross' breathing was stringy and unhinged. He was getting close to his end, and she wanted to feel it spill. Shoving her over onto her hands and knees, he clumsily got back up onto his feet. His shoulders hunched as his sweaty mitts hiked up her hips. She felt like jello, wobbling to-and-fro. Her hand buried in Vogel's hair as he tilted his jaw to follow her, lapping still. Martin's fingers slid under her folds, as he chased her spine down with his teeth.

Amanda rocked right into Gripps crotch, her cheek beside his achingly rock-solid cock. With the only hand she had left, she took hold of him again. Pressed her tongue so hard along the pulsing vein underneath she actually saw his balls spasm.

"You really don't-" Came the strangled protest, but she took him in her mouth right to the top of her throat and he stopped talking.

Cross started slow this time. Feeling out the position. Trying to find the angle they had had before. His arms shook once or twice, and when they did he had to pull out of her entirely. He was edging too close, he needed to last longer. She wasn't left empty for long at those points, Martin shoving his hand in to stroke. Vogel continued his gentle attention at her front, as she scratched at his scalp to encourage him. When Cross finally got it right, they _both_ knew. It was the way her thighs vibrated, her muscles contracted, and her throat thrummed as he rubbed right along that _spot_. He'd found it.

Amanda slurped and sucked at Gripps cock as best she could, desperate to not leave him alone without release, pulling up enough only to gasp and wheeze and beg; "Cum _with_ us." 

As Cross got after it, her body jolting forward with each insistent press of his cock, Gripps took her hand firmly and guided it to his sack. Showed her how to squeeze him, harder than _she_ would have for fear of hurting him. Then, when he was sure she got the gist, he took hold of her hair and pulled her down onto his dick with a frantic pointed rhythm. His other lot of fingers sliding round to her throat to feel himself moving in it. His head fell back, eyes tight shut, his lip tucked between his teeth, enraptured.

Letting go of one of her hips, Cross had to grab the handrail again, his legs shaking as he edged himself along inside of her as best he could. He was hitting that place over and over and over. To the point of absolute incapacity for Amanda. The beat of his fuck was also the beat that made her gag on Gripps. She was losing track of where they began and she ended. Vogel continued to lick and nuzzle her clit, but Martin? Martin's hand, slick with her juices, was moving away from her lips and up to her ass. Pressing in and circling her other entrance firmly, intensely, with intention. Drummer whined over two banging cocks, as she surreally felt even her eyebrows start to tingle. 

"Drummer," Martin's gravelly voice was practically inside her head as he bit a trail all the way up to her shoulder, "you like _this_?"

Then he was driving two of his fingers up into her ass, immediately pumping so hard and so fast she felt blinded. The _noise_ she made. It would have been a scream, if there hadn't been a cock in her mouth, if the very sensation of her throat throbbing around him hadn't made Gripps cry out and climax. Spurting his all straight down her gullet. She swallowed with a hysterical, detached, moronic satisfaction.

As Gripps slid free of her gaping jaw, Vogel, like he'd been waiting, clamped his sucking mouth down ferociously on her clit. And as a conscious, thinking, sentient being Amanda was absolutely _gone_. Head buried in Gripps' crotch, Drummer was _cumming._ Hysterically shaking from head to toe, as jizz dripped out of her mouth. She wasn't _squirting_ though. Had they not done it right? Gripps lifted her chin up, determination his face. He shoved her back, hard, by the shoulders. Holding her there. Putting so much force between her cunt, Martin's fingers and Cross' cock that it was like being tazed. She was about to rupture, burst, flood.

Cross had held on to his climax up until that point but, as her pussy ground up sensationally into his crotch, rippling and squeezing and sucking rapturously, he shot his load right against her throbbing stimulated spot.

"Fuck- _yes_!" He hauled the ever-loving red energy straight from her snatch.

The feel of him cumming so far inside... the pressure just _released_. An incredible rush of _wet_. A deluge of liquid gold. Her spine arcing over like a cat about to stretch. Amanda's pussy watered as Vogel, shoved in tight against her crotch by her painfully quaking hand, drank her all down. Martin slid away.

Cross and Amanda collapsed back together, their thighs pressing down over Vogel's rising ribs. Unable to come up off of her hands, spluttering and shivering, Drummer was made of marshmallow fluff. Gripps pushed her upright, helping her rest against Cross' heaving chest, his dick slowly sliding out of her, soft. Head lolling back against a shoulder, Martin gently touched her throat. She found it hard to open her eyes smoothly. Had sex _ever_ been like this?

Swallowing, her throat felt a little ragged, but she chortled, "Y'all should be careful... I almost started catching feelings for you there."

"Only almost?" Martin smirked as Cross mindlessly kissed at her shoulders, Vogel grinned and Gripps snickered.

"Well," She coughed a little, voice hoarse, "Maybe a little _more_ than almost."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took me _so long_ to post. I had a really rough week last week. Some nights I got home, wrote two sentences thought 'nope' and went to sleep.  
> I even had to re-write some bits cos I didn't feel iike I was getting my characterisation right.  
> But, hey! It took me nearly two weeks to write so it better take y'all nearly two weeks to read, right?! :P
> 
> Also, whilst I'm absolutely not the first person to have the idea of flavors for the Rowdies, I would be amiss if I didn't mention [@AdorableDisaster's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdorableDisaster/pseuds/AdorableDisaster) [Rowdy 3 Series](https://archiveofourown.org/series/777585)


	13. No Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a lot of conversations  
> And pissing about

The sun over Chicago was stuck in a perpetual struggle with the dull and desolate sky. Trying to peak through clouds a shine would burst forth, shafts of radiance gleaming over the earth, only to be swallowed again in a swirl of cold mid-morning air. The rain was, for now, held at bay, but there was a heaviness to everything. Perhaps it would not be held much longer. 

Under the bridge, where they had spent most of the morning, the Rowdy 3 played. Cross and Vogel practicing their swings with bats and bars, empty beer cans replacing non-existent baseballs. Gripps stood ahead of them, Beast balancing atop his shoulders, her bare feet held steady in his hands. A pair of gymnasts in another life. In this one, though, Beast was trying to catch the cans, as the man below her did his best to keep them both upright. 

Martin and Amanda hunched together at the driver-side door. She was sat beside the wheel, tongue between her teeth, unscrewing the interior panel with the tool usually rammed into the ignition. He leaned in through the open window, his head hovering next to hers watching the progress. The last time the door had jammed, it was because the lock had gotten rusty and stiff. A good jimmy with a hanger had got it open. Then Cross and Vogel had kicked the shit out of it to clear out the muck. No such luck this time. No, this one required _finesse_.

When the screws were out, Drummer tried to pull the cover off, but it wouldn't budge. She jimmied and yanked and pushed, but it just refused to move. Martin eventually whistled for her to lean back, then gave the Van a wobbler of a kick. The plastic came away with a violent cracking jolt.

"Y'know, that probably doesn't help with the whole 'broken' thing." She sighed, looking at the strange mechanics with vested interest, "I have literally _no idea_ what _any_ of this is, bud."

Lurching in further, to also get an eyeful, Martin shrugged; "Just wiggle stuff around. Wait until something clicks."

"Ah!" She smirked, "The ever prominent repairman 'wiggle' technique, huh?"

Both sets of hands reached in. Began pulling and prodding at all sorts of sticky-outty-bits and doo-hickeys. They would try the door handle hopefully every time something elicited a click or a crack from the alien machinery before them. Nothing was happening, though. She watched his calloused fingers experiment, and her guts dropped pleasantly remembering the feel of them on her skin. 

"Is it a control thing?" Amanda asked, careful to keep her attention on the task, to not look at him, "You strangling me?"

The beat of silence that followed was stifling compared to the comfortable one from moments before, "Does it... bother you?"

"You _know_ it _doesn't_. And I wouldn't let you do it if it did, bud." She shrugged, not looking up as something sprang and they tried the handle - nada, "Just curious."

"Maybe? Never really thought about it much..." His hands withdrew as he took the time now, and she snuck glances at his fingers tightening and loosening over the window-ledge, "Drummer, even there y _ou're in charge._ I'd... do whatever you tell me to make you feel good. Don't wanna control _you_. Wanna sodding... _fuck you,_ in w _hatever way you want_. I like the silence and then you... _breathing_ and heaving. That you _let_ me do it. But I can't separate craving and-" his hands gripped so tight the metal creaked, "Nobody gets to even _threaten_ you with that crap but _me_."

Nodding, clenching her thighs together, the sense of it had a shape she supposed as thoughtfully she pressed on, "You ever treated other folks the way you do me?"

A snap, but the door handle didn't budge, he sighed; "Sometimes. Didn't like it so much."

"Hm?" Her wordless response was clear, she wanted to know _why_.

"No trust." The way his voice cracked over it, she looked up at his face then, he was so carefully unguarded with her, "They were mostly just _scared_. And that's fine when keeping people at distance is as much about protecting them as us. But of all the places I _don't_ want _that_ , buried in your cunt would be it." he was trying to be crude, light-hearted, but Amanda could see a shadow of self-hatred buried in him, "I'm no sick fucking rapist."

Without a word, she took his wrist. It had never occurred to her, not for a single moment, that she was in danger. She _knew_ she wasn't. No, not for a _single second_ had she felt forced into any of it. She trusted that she could have said no, and they would have stopped. Pulling his fingers to her throat, she settled them there firmly, pointedly. Swallowing, Martin applied a tender pressure, not looking away as she raised her chin to let him.

"I have never felt, a day in my life, as safe as I am with you." She muttered and, nodding, his grip tightened further, forcing her to take a shaky restricted breath as she stroked his elbow, "I want _you_ , and this _is you_. I like it fine, more than fine, even. I don't want you to stop, or pretend, or think I won't take every bit of it."

"You think its weird, though, right?" He wasn't smiling as he let go, but he wasn't hurting either when he went back to messing with the door's bits.

Cross wandered by gathering up the baseball-cans that had veered off towards the Van as Amanda shrugged, returning to the engineering-thing poorly, "Oh, who am I to judge, Martin? Apparently I like being railed ragged by a pack of dudes."

At that Cross' head popped up and he banged on the hood beside them joyfully, "Yeah you do!"

Martin shoved him away, failing to hide a smirk as Amanda rolled her eyes with no real annoyance behind the gesture, giggling when he was gone.

She looked over Martin carefully, though, in the returning quiet; "I am sorry, y'know?"

This time when something clicked, there was also a thunk, and the door sprang open. Swinging it wide, she held up her hands in victory. Martin high-fived her, then took hold.

"What you got to be sorry for?" He asked.

"When you shared, I felt..." She stammered over her words as he pulled her up out of the Van, her legs gave an unsteady wobble, knees still weak, and he brought her in close, fingers in her belt-loops whilst she stroked his arms, "You've _always_ been the _monster_ in some other dickhead's stories, and that isn't right. You've never done anything but _help me_."

His grip slid up as she leaned into his chest. Thumbs pressing against her larynx as fingers stroked over her cheeks, tickled the underside of her ears. The kiss he gave was breathy and intimate. Her back pressing slowly up against the Van as she held him, and shared his air. He explored her with his tongue, dipping and spreading as she ate it up, almost dizzy. He smelled like cigarettes and car grease.

Pulling away with gentle pecks, rubbing his nose over hers, Amanda licked her lips and met his eyes. Bouncing on the balls of her feet, she felt giddy.

"We're definitely monsters, Drummer." He whispered, "Just _your ones_ these days."

* * *

The pipe-wrench was Amanda's weapon. She didn't know why. Couldn't say who made that decision. It wasn't the biggest, but it was certainly the heaviest damn piece out of any of the Rowdy 3. She'd ended up with it _once_ , and for some reason it stuck. The boys handing it to her whenever there was target practice, or violent shenanigans to-be-had.

"Picture passed it, man, so you don't fucking miss." Cross explained as they smashed up mannequins in the back parking lot of an old-ass mall, "People always think it's just the hit that's key, when really it's all about the follow through. Go for the _guts_ , no matter where you're actually aiming for." 

It was like swinging a mace, like dropping a cinder block. Both hands needed to bring down the crack. It had been slow and unwieldy at first, but as she got used to it, worked with the weight, Drummer proved damn-near deadly with the thing when she needed to be. The boys were still faster though, and she was determined to keep up.

"You guys are so good at this." Amanda swung and a white plastic head flew, scattering across the floor as Cross whistled approvingly.

Gripps had the closest piece of a similar heft, the mallet, so together they had worked on one-handed wallops. In the past, tearing through suburbs trashing mailboxes, smashing up cars. Where baseball bats and crowbars were light and easy to move, a mallet and a wrench were dragging heavy heads. In the end it was all about momentum, until you could get something to connect.

"And you're getting better." Martin sniffed, correcting her form as Gripps set up another target.

With the mallet, Gripps usually started off overhead or under, bringing it up like playing crochet, or smacking it down like going for a prize at the faire. The long handle made carrying the force forward easier, but always required both hands. Wrenches were shorter, and Amanda could hook her fingers through the hole in the handle and spin the thing until the air around it whistled. The first time she'd launched it, it had torn the skin from her fingers - so now the handle was padded with duct tape for good measure.

Vogel and Beast were chasing each other with errant arms. Smacking them together like swords as cars drifted by in the drizzly early afternoon. They'd been in situ for a few hours with the intention of, at some point, robbing the food court. 

"I've seen what you guys can do, that shit's _impossible_." Amanda span the wrench in her right hand, as Gripps stepped back, then she brought the force up right into a mannequin's crotch - the facsimile of a person split in half.

"Well, you can't _feel it_ the way we do." Gripps huffed, happy with her bit of destruction.

It was still work, but Drummer could wield that hefty bit of metal for some time without her arms getting tired. She could hurt things _with_ them, no psychotic-psychic energy necessary. They'd taught her how, when going to for the balls, to aim for the heart instead. When swinging for the head, try to go straight through the neck.

"What do you mean?" She kicked a foot up at herself and cracked it away like a ball.

"Well, everything has energy, man." Cross shrugged as she walked in a circle, spinning the wrench, "Good or bad. It rides the air, soaks into things, pulses through people. It _shifts_."

"Getting real hippy on me there, my guy." She smiled as Martin tossed a torso her way and she two-hand swung into it, making it veer off towards the Van.

"Right, now try that on _me_." Martin tapped himself on the chest, and Amanda balked, "It's alright. You won't hurt me."

"This is a wrench." She pointed at it, "It's _made_ of hurty things."

"Just swing, Drummer." Martin rolled his eyes, and as she looked around hoping to find incredulity, she instead found encouraging nods, "It'll _show you_ what he means."

Swallowing, she gave a half hearted swing, which Martin didn't even have to lean out of the way of. He raised his eyebrows, _there_ was the incredulity. Swearing at him, she did it again, her heart leaping into her throat when she thought she was going to connect with his chin. But then he was out of the way and shifting behind her in a blink. Vogel and Beast skidded to a stop to watch as he tapped her shoulder roughly, and she span to go again. He was already gone.

"In a fight a trained man doesn't plan," He said from her left, so she whipped the wrench right, hoping to catch him on the other side, "has muscle memory, flashbacks, old injuries," Drummer nearly fell over as, even though she had been right, he stepped back out of the way, then snapped back in by her face "paranoias, things that don't work so good." Martin ducked as the momentum carried her round in a circle, and then sidestepped out of her way again, "It telegraphs their moves before they even make them." Then he was catching her wrist and pulling her in against his torso, arm trapped awkwardly at her back - wrench held high above both their heads.

"We can feel when a guy starts favouring his left cos he has a cracked rib," Cross called as Amanda was shoved back out, "or sniff the ego of a dickhead who thinks he has a good right swing-"

"And damn him if he ain't gonna use it!" Gripps laughed and Cross grinned.

"We feel that all the time, Boss," Vogel enthusiastically threw his arm towards her and Drummer brought the wrench up to block, "from everybody."

Nodding, Cross added, "We're tapped into it a lot, sort of sucking it in, letting it tell us where to be."

"And you can't do _that_ , Drummer." Martin stepped in gently this time, stroked her cheek as she chewed her tongue thoughtfully, "You've seen. We can feel when bad things happen, or are about to. Places take on the echo of tragedy."

"That's kind of poetic, Martin." She muttered.

"Yeah, and he's better, quicker, at picking up on the big stuff than the rest of us are," Cross sat in the doorway of the Van and tossed a beer to Gripps, "I'm good with like, people? He'll smell the danger then I'll get the folks bringing it - their brace for impact."

"And, what, you guys just have a bad sense of smell?" Amanda teased at Vogel and Gripps as Beast scurried up under her arm.

"I get scale." Gripps cracked his beer and took a swig, "It's hard to explain. I'll sniff the size of the burn that's coming. These guys' echoes fill me in on the rest."

Vogel smiled awkwardly as Amanda's eyes fell on him curiously; "I- I just have a bad sense of smell."

That probably explained a lot, she thought; "Is that why you couldn't tell the guys weren't in the Van when that dickhead broke your hand?"

He nodded, clearly embarrassed, but Gripps reached over and mussed his hair, "No, he just doesn't _pay attention_ to anything, _ever_. If you took an extra 30 seconds to think sometimes, you'd be cracking eggs, Voge's."

Amanda kissed Vogel's hair gently as she squeezed Beast's shoulder. She figured both things were probably true. Then target practice resumed. Vogel and Martin taking swings as everyone threw crap at them as quickly as they could. Martin could dodge and swing like he was a blade of grass in the wind. Vogel, though, would get so excited that he'd succeeded once, he'd miss the next three tosses in distraction. Drummer had seen him in a real fight, he would lose focus like that too, but he moved so quick it hardly mattered.

"I think..." Amanda started, high-pitched and considered as Cross tossed Martin a beer during down-time, "I've felt you guys _changing_ it. The energy, I mean."

Bouncing, Vogel exclaimed; "Yeah! Wrecking shit-"

"Not just _that_. I get that, Gobbo. No, I mean, it shifts around _me_."

"Well, we can feel when you... open." Martin breathed it up into the sky before downing half his can in one go.

"Less poetic, bud, but I catch your drift."

"I think, what you feel is our _focus_ on you." Cross offered gently, "What's out _here_ is like constant-"

"Berating." Martin growled.

"Bullshit, yeah." Cross nodded, "But then you're not safe, or you want us and we _feel_ it, and we want you, man, and it all just..."

"Closes in." Gripps shuddered pleasurably at the thought, "There's _silence_."

Cross licked his lips, "It's a bit overwhelming, to be honest." 

Amanda giggled weakly as Martin pulled her forehead to his lips, "Glad I'm not the only one who feels _that_ then."

* * *

There was no real thing that set them off, all huddled into the back of the Van over their stolen feast of fast-food boxes and haphazardly grabbed candy-bags. The Rowdy 3 had been laughing, and joking and teasing each other for a good hour or so. Every other stupid voice and silly word setting them spinning into hysterics, like kids at a slumber party. They were tucked away in some sad little alley with nothing but fire escapes overhead.

"You try having that conversation!" Gripps exclaimed, wiping tears from his cheeks as they all dug into a bag of sugary sour gummy-worms, suddenly very posh and British, "Excuse me, sexy lady, I am a _vampire_ , care to let me suck the orgasm out of you? You'll survive. Scouts honour!"

"Okay, okay." Amanda giggled over her box of noodles as Vogel flicked a worm at her nose, "But you _had_ to figure out it was food _somehow_."

Martin and Cross pointed at each other a little sheepishly as a joint was lit and began to be passed around.

"Really?!" She squealed, gleeful, as they uncharacteristically blushed, "That's actually so _sweet_ , my dudes." 

"Yeah, yeah, but as much as you know I love y'all, I ain't about _that_." Gripps smiled adoringly at them, and the boys gestured their understanding easily, "Just not my thing."

"You've had _practice_ , though." Amanda observed as Beast slurped up three gummy-worms then squiggled her face up at the sourness.

"Well _thanks for noticing._ " Gripps held his hand to his chest in mock flattery, "Never for eating, though. Learned pretty fast, sudden bursts of bright light when a girl cums really changes the mood in a room."

"God, yeah, I can imagine." Amanda nodded, "I wouldn't know what to think, if I didn't like... _know_."

"Right? None of them _knew_. It was just scratching an itch, but not finding the spot." He tilted his head, "It's never been like _this_."

The Rowdies around him murmured their agreement as Amanda suggested; "It's... _honest_ now, isn't it?"

"Yeah." Cross blew smoke, "It was always weird trying to make people _get_ that they weren't ever going to have just _one_ of us. Even harder if they didn't _like_ all of us."

"Mhmm. Roll up, roll up, come get your Rowdy 3's here! Not your typical violent neurological-energy sucking psychos. Get your grubby mitts on a Martin, and you'll get yourselves a Cross and our particularly handsome Gripps thrown in!" Amanda grinned, with a silly aside, "Vogel's sold separately."

"Hey!" The youngest Rowdy protested, as Amanda launched herself at him, shoving gummy worms into his mouth by the handful.

"What about you?" Martin asked, as Amanda slithered back to the floor, holding Vogel down as he tried to eat quickly, "We're not your first-"

"No." she responded quickly, "Not my first..." blinking, she thought about it properly, "but you also sort of _are_? Like, with Pararibulitis, what triggers it is- _was_ so random. Sometimes just a person touching me, when I wasn't expecting it could set me off." shuddering to remember, she pressed on, "In the end shutting myself away was like, a last-ditch effort to cut out all possible stimuli or something? Obviously it didn't help. That's not how mental illnesses work. They don't just go away because you take yourself out of the world. But it meant I didn't see... well, _anybody_ , for a really long time, y'know?" She glanced around, suddenly conscious of the silence they'd left open for her, "That got a little too serious, huh?"

As the Rowdy 3 looked back at her, Vogel carefully took her arm, she turned her gaze down to him, "Y'know, you're not the first person I've taken that energy from..." offering honesty in return for honesty, "But, um, you're sort of the first person I've _made it with_."

"Sort of?" Her eyebrows knitted together, then shot up as she caught his meaning, "Vogel..."

"I think, maybe, you were this jigsaw piece we were missing to make the picture whole, Boss." He chewed at his lip as he said it, and she stroked his hair, "Like we didn't know, because we'd grown so used to just seeing the gap?"

She sniffed, a lump in her throat that was more panicky than touched; "My guys, this is all getting a bit deep."

It had only been a _month_ since they started up with this... No, being honest, it had been the better part of a _year_. This wasn't a sudden revelation, really, not to any of them. It was just amplified now, because of what they did with each other. What bothered her wasn't that she knew exactly what he meant. It was that, for her, it hadn't been a puzzle with a missing piece completing a quaint little picture.

It had been a shattered mirror, shards stuck in the ends of her fingers as she tried desperately to put it back together. Knowing she had all the pieces was wonderful, but she was still clinging onto the glass trying to keep at all from sliding out with nothing but blood and tears. Even if she got it all back in the frame, it could never be a _mirror_ again. There would be a thousand cracks, a thousand lines, a thousand imperfections. It would be something utterly different, and she was terrified to learn what that might be. Who might stare back at her in that broken looking-glass?

"Let's go back to gummy-worms and giggling, yeah?" Her voice broke desperately.

"Why shattered glass?" Cross whispered, his head shifting as though he could actually hear it, and Martin nodded his second to the question.

"Shit." She rubbed her eyes, " _Fucking empaths, man._ Okay..."

* * *

"Hey!" Vogel and Beast's heads popped up over the back of the front seats.

Jittering back and forth excitedly as they looked down, conspiratorially cheerful. Amanda slouched, biting her fingernails under bright orange streetlamps. She'd been sat alone for a while, watching through the windshield as Martin and Cross shared a smoke and talked quietly. She had asked for a breather.

"Present!" Beast declared, her hand shooting out to offer a familiar yet strange piece of wood, with a blue rock stuck to the end; the Wand.

Drummer hated talking about the shit in her head. Explaining the world and what she saw in it to a bunch of self-interested strangers had been the beat of her youth. When everyone else she knew was at college, getting wasted, figuring out their shit, working towards a future, she was in hospital being told her life was going to be different. Looking _in_ back then, being asked to figure out what that meant, and how it made her feel? It spiralled to some pretty dark places.

Staring at that surreal bit of wood blankly for a moment, Amanda forced a small smile before sitting up to take it; "Thanks."

So, she chased the lie of hope Todd had sewn, until that imploded too. And Amanda knew it probably wasn't healthy, wasn't helping her to become a more functional person, but avoiding or ignoring everything worked _better_. Thinking about _everybody else_ worked better. And, since nobody really noticed that she wasn't a _person_ anymore doing that, she'd gotten along okay for years. Until the Rowdy 3. Who had happily been putting her first from the get-go, even when she didn't have a _clue_ what was going on.

Beast climbed over the headrests to crouch excitedly next to her, Vogel bouncing into the driver's seat too.

The boys knew when she was working on a feeling, really, even before she did. They just waited around for her to catch up with herself before working through it. Or gave her a push where it was necessary, to make her stop ignoring her own needs. Now she _was_ thinking, she could see how their declaration of _want_ had come along after the first fluttering thoughts of her own, which she had elected to ignore at the time.

The Rowdy 3 in Wendimoor, were so soft and strange and violent. She remembered seeing Martin's arms, Cross' chest, flowers in Vogel's hair, Gripps being madly enthusiastic for every little bit of bizarre; remembered Martin's wink, Cross' beautiful smile, Vogel's nervousness with strangers, Gripps rubbing his hands through her hair; remembered the pooling of desire in her stomach that she had then filed away to never think about again. Because? What was her desire _for_? It was no use to them, or her. She was never going to have all four of them like that, was she? _Wrong again, Drummer girl._

They had had the Wand since Wendimoor, too. It had proven to be a useless piece of junk, hadn't worked once. Waving it around, thinking really hard, shouting random shit; nothing. They'd all seen it work, knew there was crap a person could say to make it do stuff. The problem was, none of them knew what to say. If the words had been written down someplace, the Rowdy 3 didn't know where. And it wasn't like the bitch who had it first was _telling_.

Drummer slipped the Wand into her jacket, not rejecting what Beast gave her since she was touched by the gesture; "I have a present for you too!"

Popping her hand under the passenger chair, she opened a small compartment by giving it a serious thump on the left hand side. Amanda pulled out a small box of paints. Handing them over, Beast sniffed and shook the box perplexed.

"You seemed to enjoy drawing on Gripps so much, I figured you might wanna decorate the Van, or something?" Amanda smiled, genuinely, as Vogel took the box from Beast and popped it open so she could get to one of the tubes.

In quick catastrophic fashion, the lid was off and a splurge of purple was splattering over the wind-shield. The trio looked at it mortified. Then they were giggling like children at the mess they'd caused. It was something nice, something normal. As they tried to hide the evidence, they really just made it worse.

"Okay, maybe don't squeeze so hard, bud." Drummer hissed, in good humour, using her fingers to scrape the paint from the glass and trying, in vain, to squidgy some of it back into the tube.

Martin's head popped up by Vogel, knocking, pointing at the wreck they had caused, indicating for someone to roll down the window. Amanda lurched forward as soon as there was a gap, trying to shove her violently violet digits out to get him. Stumbling back he grinned as she stuck out her tongue.

"You're not getting me with that today, Drummer." He chortled as Cross wandered round to also take a look.

"Well you're _both_ on my list." She threatened, dropping back to continue her highly ineffective cleaning technique.

"List for what?" Gripps asked confusedly as he rocked up behind them, blinking dazed, as though he'd been napping.

Amanda swivelled, slathering his face with purple paint as he went from utterly astonished to quietly resigned; "Ha!" she grinned, "You snooze you lose, pal!"

"Yeah, uh-huh." Gripps nodded, licking his lips and grabbing for her arms as she screeched and tried to get away, "C'mere!"

Dragging her over the back of the chairs and onto the floor of the Van, Gripps rubbed his face all over hers. Until they were both a paint covered mess, laughing. Martin and Cross climbed back inside complaining loudly at the hands smeared all over the metal floor. Then he settled back to look at his masterpiece. Amanda reached up to stroke Gripps' face with a smile. The colour looked good against his skin.

"You gonna be alright?" He asked quietly, he wasn't pushing for her to talk, just checking in.

"With you guys?" She sighed, pulling him down to kiss his forehead, "Always."

Vogel dangled over the back of the driver's seat cheerfully, "Hey, we should take her to meet that guy who's a hotel!"


	14. The Guy Who's a Hotel

The building towering over them was dark. Isolated. Outside of the city, passed the suburbia, hidden away in some weird little valley where no one would think to go. It had six floors, was longer than it was wide, and was clearly built by a fan of concrete brutalism - all jagged edges and unpleasant lines in a dull, rain-stained grey. The dewy morning air was cold as the Rowdy 3 looked through a tinted, unmoving, revolving door.

Amanda was bursting with curiosity. From what they could see, through the weather-mucky glass, the décor was inspired by some kind of terrible 1970s ski-chalet. It looked _awful_ and Drummer was stoked. There were no broken windows, no mucky floors, no debris from fallen ceiling tiles. As old as it appeared, it definitely wasn't abandoned. It was just... empty. No staff, no guests, not even a skittering bug.

"How come you didn't tell me about this dude sooner?" She jabbed Vogel accusatorially in the ribs as he started banging.

"Hey, Hotel Guy! We're back!"

Gripps and Cross pressed their faces hard against the dusty surface, their noses squeaking as they pulled ugly mugs and blew raspberries at precisely nobody. Beast enthusiastically pushed against the handles of the immovable doors, straining and scraping her feet with very little success. Martin was slow to get out of the Van, leaning against the bonnet watching them as he smoked. 

Growing impatient, Vogel whined; "He said he'd _be here_."

The sound of glass fracturing had them both swivelling to see an incredibly intricate crack pattern in the door panel in front of Beast. Gripps was whistling to himself in an affectation of nonchalance, as he made a show of hiding his mallet with a wink. For some reason the glass hadn't come apart, it hadn't shattered. The door had not given in.

"It was so cool, Boss," Vogel pressed on desperately, "he offered to show us around and everything, but Martin said it smelled funny-"

"Funny? Funny how?"

"Sweet," The Rowdy in question was next to them then, staring up the road they had driven down warily, smacking on Gripps' shoulder to make him look the same way, "like rotting meat. Comes and goes. Can't figure it." Amanda's eyes followed theirs, and saw a figure walking down the laneway, paper grocery bags in hand, "One minute it's _ripe_. The next, nothing but roses."

As Gripps hurriedly did a better job of hiding his shame this time, the lobby before them burst, not to life, but with light. The revolving door squeaky, creaking, partially damaged, began moving as Beast's ministrations finally seemed to have some effect. Forcing her way inside, she was bouncing on the furniture, and leaving muddy footprints before anyone had a thought to grab her.

The man who approached was middle-aged and middling, sort of fat, sort of short, sort of scruffy, sort of neat. He looked like he'd slept in the crumpled outfit he was wearing, an old but decent two piece suit. His hair was slicked back, red as flame, greying at the edges, and like it was a bit longer than he was comfortable with. His smile was wide, and even though his teeth were stained, it was a perfectly pleasant expression across his age-softened features.

"Well, hello again!" His voice was genuinely pleased, and heavily Irish , "I say, twice in one week fellas? I should be so lucky. And you brought new faces!"

"Hotel Guy!" Vogel was hopping forward, knocking Cross out of his way, "I said the Boss would-"

"Yes!" Shaking Vogel's hand clumsily over his shopping, the man's eyes snapped to Amanda and she had to resist the inexplicable urge to recoil, "Little guy, black hair. Prettier than you said! Welcome! My name's Finny, which I see you already forgot. Oh well, perhaps if I make you breakfast maybe your friend will do a better job of remembering me?"

"Breakfast would actually be _great_ , thanks." Drummer smiled, blushing at his near-constant stare whilst her stomach gurgled with the mere mention of food.

Finny offered the bags he carried to the people around him, and awkwardly they acquiesced. Gripps and Cross taking the groceries as their new curiosity tucked Drummer's arm under his own and pushed through them. He stopped short when he saw the state of his door, stiff and clearly perturbed. Eyes darting to the bouncing shape beyond the glass.

"Ah." Was all he said, dismissively, before winking at Amanda and taking her through the revolution, "No harm done." Glancing behind her as they entered the lobby, the door wasn't broken anymore, and the grin that spread across her face almost hurt; was this guy _really_ a hotel? "And who's your _friend_?"

Drummer swivelled to catch Beast stomping over a spindly coffee-table between two squared, dated sofas. The Rowdy 3 struggled in behind her, as they all heard the snapping of wood under heavy filthy boots; like dry autumn leaves, just a real satisfying crunch.

"That's Beast." Amanda smiled fondly as the rainbow-woman dashed up beside her to grin her lopsided grin.

"I see." His voice was tight, "Very apt." Then his face was alight with humour as Beast made off at full tilt down a neighbouring corridor, "Perhaps you should invest in a leash!"

* * *

"Now are you lads sure I can't tempt you?" Finny was hovering in the kitchen-doorway of a stupendously large dining room, "I make a mean poached egg!" The boys mumbled through their disinterest, "No? Just the beers? Alright then."

Amanda stared up at the painted gold ceilings, lit with pink-bulbed drooping fittings that brought to mind rain falling on a sunny day. She was astounded at how _dated_ it all was. The carpets were made of distractingly terrible geometric shapes in pinks and browns. The furniture was awkwardly recovered with plastic cream tarps. The glasses and plates were fake crystal and rose-gold glass respectively. It was all just _disgusting_. She loved it.

If Vogel wasn't piling chairs on top of tables as Beast bounced around him, Drummer would have sworn she had fallen through a hole in time. The light followed their playing, and she tried to spot motion-sensors. The heavy velveteen curtains drawn over the windows cast such a shadow over everything. There was this illusion of an evening's warmth, and tight intimacy. But an illusion it certainly was, as Drummer's fingers were so cold they actually ached, and the space echoed with all its vast disuse whilst their host cooked breakfast and whistled to himself.

Gripps was discussing, with great passion, the amount of rooms he reckoned the place had (at least 240), Cross arguing the math for the sake of arguing - not because he actually cared. Finny put a plate of scrambled eggs on toast down in front of Amanda, and as he did so he patted her hand, but immediately recoiled in surprise.

"I apologise!" He balked, patting his tummy, "This old blubber makes a man forget what a chill is."

There was a low gurgling rumble, the clanging of pipes, the rush of moving water. In a building as big and empty as this, they could hear the heating coming on. Amanda grinned, giddy to experience this man's strange control over his own small speck of reality. Then Finny was taking a seat across from her and the other boys, at the large round table closest to the kitchen, tucking into his own poached eggs. Martin watched him closely whilst Amanda also happily ate her breakfast.

"Hotel Guy!" Vogel called from somewhere far away, a small tower of chairs wobbling just within view.

"It's Finny..." He replied weakly, egg slipping from his fork and back onto his plate with a muted splat.

"You said we could play games?"

"Oh yes! Why, there's an indoor squash-court, a backgammon table, a pool hall - and by _pool_ I mean the sort with cues, not the um- the water-polo?" He said it all in a very satisfied fashion, "Plenty to keep you entertained, I'd say." 

"Yeah," Drummer scoffed incredulously, much to Cross' and Gripps' amusement, "if you're a 40 year old businessman from the 80s."

Finny chewed his next bite slowly, before holding his hands up to concede the point, "I suppose if you're looking for more modern entertainment, there's a television in every room, and a wireless or two for those who are more auditorily inclined. In fact..."

A set of speakers, painted gold and hidden up in the awnings, began to play some god-awful lounge music. Drummer's cheeks were starting to hurt from all the damn smiling. Everything was great, it was _so great_. She couldn't wait to see the bedrooms, the bathrooms, would there be an olive green bathing suite?! Vogel barrelled up and took a seat right next to Finny, who leaned awkwardly away only to bump a shoulder into Beast. He jumped, spitting out a bit of egg.

"Oh my goodness. You two are fast aren't ya?" He giggled.

Nodding, a little breathless from over-exuberance, Vogel blurted, "So, how long have you been here?"

"Oh, only a couple of weeks I'd say." Finny smiled round at them, "This place was quite a find!"

Amanda nodded enthusiastically as Vogel then began a tirade of follow-up questions and suggestions, to which Finny, with a pleasant smile and good humour, did his best to entertain. It was sweet, she thought, how he was being terribly polite with everybody. Then she felt fingers push against her thigh, and looked to see Martin leaning towards her.

"He's lying." Came the whisper, and she felt her smile falter as in the corner of her eye there was Cross nodding.

"He's smug." He muttered, covering his mouth with his hand, answering the question she hadn't needed to ask.

"Been here months. Bet on it." Martin settled back in his chair, arm behind Amanda now, guarding.

Swallowing a mouthful of toast, she tried to fathom _why_. Why lie? What difference did it make if he'd been here a week, two days, or four years? But the boys _couldn't_ be wrong, either. So, she started supposing; it was a bit of a forward question from such a group of perfect strangers, maybe he just hadn't felt comfortable, maybe he didn't want to make _them_ feel awkward, maybe he was self-conscious about being lonely? Leaning over the table, Amanda decided thinking about it wasn't going to get her an answer as quick as just _asking_ would.

"Finny?" Her voice cracked, so she took a swig of water.

"Yes, Little-guy-black-hair?" His relief to be pulled away from Vogel's interrogation was evident, to be focusing on _her_ again.

"Amanda." She provided, trying to tread softly, "Th- this place is amazing. You _can't_ have been here just a couple of weeks-"

"Are you saying you don't believe me?" The smile on Finny's face was tight.

"We don't." Martin and Cross replied for her, in unison.

He blinked, eyed them as she watched him roll his fork in his fingers, then smile brightly - unabashed, "Well, of course I meant a few _months_. I've been laying low, you see? Got pushed out of the last few places. So, I'd quite like to stay _here_ a while longer."

Amanda looked to the boys and they said nothing to argue this time; _must be true then_. So why didn't she feel better? Good, honest communication was key to any new relationship, they just had to get back on the right foot. She _really_ wanted a bath, so the right foot better take a step somewhere.

"Now!" Finny clapped his hands together over his empty plate, "Why don't you finish off that bit of toast, _Amanda_ , and then I'll give you the tour. You boys might even get to touching your beers."

* * *

The tour was thorough, almost needlessly in-depth, and beyond the ground floor, also painfully repetitive. Finny was enthused about every little thing, from the wholly brown bachelor pads, to the intensely pink honeymoon suites. He showed off every particularly hideous painting, or stupendously garish bit of wall paper. Each corridor he took them down seemed to stretch out into infinity, and with no windows to break up the fluorescents (of which he was also terribly proud) the amount of time they spent looking around the place seemed to go on indefinitely.

Amanda was fascinated with how pristine _everything_ was. Not a pillow out of place, not a speck of muck on the carpets. Vogel was bouncing beside her, thrilled with her interest, watching her every smile and sharing each giddy jitter. Cross and Gripps chatted away, disinterested in the whole affair after the fourth bedroom, jabbing each other whenever one or the other made an impressively scathing observation or awful hotel-pun. Martin and Beast were lagging behind, quietly sniffing things every time Drummer looked back to check in on them. 

By the time Finny had guided them all the way up to the sixth floor and back down again, the utter lack of other human-beings was steadily becoming surreal. The silence that filled the place was unending, not a stray cough or errant TV-station could be heard through a single door or characteristically thin wall. No elevators dinged, and no pipes gurgled in the distance to announce the drop of somebodies' deuce. The place was empty, except for Finny. And yet, the lobby was once again clean; Beast's earlier havoc wiped away as though it had never happened.

"Don't you find it a little... eerie?" Amanda asked, as Hotel Guy showed them into his aforementioned pool hall, "All this space and nobody in it?"

Finny shrugged as the boys swept in to paw at his collection of cues displayed against the wall, "I find, if you pick a corner in a place like this and stick to it, you hardly notice the space you aren't using. And I'm _very good_ at keeping myself entertained. Are you not?"

Amanda smiled as her attention moved to the lads crowded around the table. She pushed the slot to make the machinery dispense its balls for them, and the Rowdy 3 began setting a game up across the table. The triangle utterly ignored, they laid out a pair of straight lines. Then, all using different parts of their cues, they began hitting the balls into each other haphazardly, much to their own bemused amusement. They didn't seem to be bothered about getting anything in the holes, the clack of stone oddly more satisfying in the quiet.

Finny watched them, utterly appalled; "Tha- that's not how you play pool..."

"What's 'pool', man?" Cross asked, tongue between his teeth as he smacked one of Martin's balls off course - the course being utterly random but apparently very important as the oldest Rowdy hissed in competitive disappointment.

"What- 'what's pool'?!" Finny exclaimed, hand on his chest, "Oh lads, come here, let me- just, let me show ya."

The proceeding couple of hours were spent with Finny, as patiently as he had been with them all morning, showing the Rowdies how to play an actual game of pool - with rules and points and everything. They impolitely decided to let him do so, then promptly ignored everything he'd show them, _except_ how to hit the balls properly. Sitting in a lounge chair in a corner, Drummer was content to spend the morning watching. At some point Martin rested his ass against the arm beside her, with his eyes never leaving their host.

"Still smelling something funny?" She asked quietly as Beast failed miserably to hit the cue-ball into anything, but seeming to think that was the whole point.

Martin shuffled, his foot against hers as he muttered, "Yeah. Recognise it. Can't place from where."

"The rot again?" She pressed, touching his back.

"No." He shook his head, closing his eyes, "Like fresh earth, or dust... must, damp plaster? Basements. Smells like basements."

Amanda nodded, "Well, we're not in a basement, bud."

"Hm, but sure smells like he crawled out of one."

* * *

The squash court was an excellent and terrible idea. The goal, of course, being to hit _each other_ as soon as they learned the real rules, and they proved too boring. Finny and Amanda stood together watching them, he flinched and she laughed whenever someone took a shot to the ass, or a smack on the arm. Even Martin seemed to relax a little as he and Beast made it their mission to target Vogel's knees. Evening had crept up on them inexplicably quickly.

"Would you like to stay the night?" Finny asked as Amanda clapped at Gripps catching Cross in the shoulder from the balcony above.

Her skin buzzing, she tried and failed to not seem too keen, "Yes! I mean- only if we're not a bother-"

"Please, it'd be my pleasure." His fingers slid across the railing towards her as he smiled, "And I'd be grateful for the company, to be honest, I can think of nothing finer than spending a nice evening amongst some friendly folk."

"Then, for sure, consider us guests." Drummer nodded.

"Excellent!" Finny clapped and bounced, a gesture that seemed awkwardly juvenile, "I've already picked out your rooms!"

"Well, anything with a bath in it is good for me." Giggling, in her head one was already drawn and steaming.

"Oh, the third floor has some wonderful choices." Finny offered his elbow, "Shall we?"

Drummer whistled; "Boys!"

* * *

The third floor was teal, almost ocean-esque in theme. The carpets ebbed and flowed with the most awful swirling water print, there were terribly twee pictures of open beaches and rocks being caressed by waves dotted between doors, and the walls were closing in under the absence of any natural light. Finny handed out a series of keys, actual _keys_ , there wasn't an electronic key-card in sight. They'd all been given a room each, clustered in the farthest corner, at the very end of the hotel. He watched them all excitedly, as they took to their suites and settled in under the setting sun.

Martin leaned against his window and stared down at the Van as he supped a beer he'd taken from the mini-fridge by the bed; Gripps sat and flicked through white-noise and news until he landed on a kids channel, showing the rules of math for beginners; Cross splayed out across his bed staring at the ceiling, pulling the makings of a spliff from his pocket; Vogel and Beast ran between each other's rooms bouncing on the beds like children at a slumber party without any parental supervision; and Drummer turned the taps on in her all-pink en-suite with black and white tiles.

Satisfied with their approval of the arrangements, Finny announced before making off; "I'll bring up supper!"

Alone for the first time since the day began, the Rowdy 3 congregated at their doorways to eye each other.

"I like him." Amanda announced, inexplicably cringing as the words came out, but Vogel agreed enthusiastically.

"You don't sound so sure about that, man." Cross smiled gently at her, beginning to make his toke.

"Well, he's a bit _odd_ , isn't he?" She whispered, looking down the hall to make sure he was actually gone, "But I suppose, if he's been alone for a while-"

"Not alone." Martin stated, staring at her intently, "Other people stayed here. Recently."

"You smell them?" She got a nod in reply, "So he lied again?"

"No. Failed to mention." There was a deep invested inhale as Martin closed his eyes, "Hasn't out right bullshitted since breakfast."

"Isn't that a good thing?" Drummer asked, feeling uncomfortable and unequipped to deal with how what she _thought_ was differing so vastly from what the Rowdies _knew_ by virtue of who they were.

Cross shook his head, "That smugness? It comes from a practiced fucking liar, Drummer. He doesn't want to be caught out again, so he's being careful."

Licking her lips, she nodded; "We don't have to stay, if you don't think it's safe..."

"S'fine." Martin shook his head, "Take your bath. We're watching. Curious to figure him out."

"Y'know, you could all do with a bath yourselves." She teased, eying her filthy fellows, over a week down the road from the last time they'd washed.

"That an invitation?" That _wink_.

"Not for you, dickhead. Cross, want me to wash your hair?"

* * *

Supper was PB&J sandwiches. A plate was handed over to a semi-clothed Drummer with a hand that lingered as Finny gawped at Cross emerging from her bathroom a little soggier than he was before. The Rowdy 3 had piled into her suite, overfilling the bed and spilling over onto the floor - the TV tuned to the same kids channel that was playing to itself in Gripps' now abandoned bedroom. His eyes rolled over them all with a strange discomforted expression, and when Amanda realised no other plate was going to be forth-coming, she handed one of the couple of sandwiches to Beast with a confused but thankful smile. The boys watched the exchange closely, Vogel finally becoming trepidatious with his enthusiasm from where he sat on his feet in the middle of the bed.

"Would you like to join us?" Drummer asked in as welcoming a fashion as she could, pressing a bare leg against Gripps' shoulder where he sat on the floor, and he pecked at her thigh, stroked her foot, "I was about to take a bath, so you could chat with the boys if you want?"

On the bed beside them, Martin reached up to stroke her elbow absently, eying Finny in a manner that was not welcoming but neither was it hostile. Amanda twisted and stroked Vogel's hair before heading for the bathroom to _finally_ take her bath. Stopped short when Finny, rather than letting her pass, began backing up swiftly, shaking his head. With a terribly unconvincing smile he was retreating out of the room.

Amanda blinked; "What happened to wanting a bit of company, dude?"

"Lights out is at eleven!" And he was gone.

"There's a 'lights out'?" She turned to the boys, and they giggled at her incredulity, "What a frickin' nerd!"

* * *

The lights had gone out exactly when Finny had said they would. The hotel seeming to just switch off entirely, the lights, the television, the digital clocks; all dead. So, the Rowdy 3 had turned in together, like they always did. Gripps offering Drummer the shirt off his back to sleep in.

Martin pressed against Drummer's back, arm over her chest, hand tuck in under her neck; Cross huddled in at her belly, her legs cradling his chest; Gripps rolled over on his dragged-in floor-mattress, huffing and grunting; Vogel dangled off the sofa by the window; and Beast had taken a blanket and huddled down in the bathtub.

Amanda stirred to the sound of movement in the middle of the night. Barely lucid, on the verge of sleep again, she heard the shuffling of feet, the dull white noise of the television set popping to life, the digital clock flashing through numbers until it displayed to half-open eyes 04:37AM. The plate she had left there was gone.

The bathroom door closed with a gentle click, and there was a tingling in her ankle, like a hand millimetres away from her skin; Amanda had to resist the urge to kick, or fidget away. 

There was a disapproving tut and then; "No, this won't do."

Sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going for something here... bare with me?
> 
> Let me know what you think?


	15. The Walls Are Closing In

The bathroom was empty.

It shouldn't have been empty.

"Where's Beast?"

There wasn't even a blanket.

The Rowdy 3 crowded in the doorway.

Stared down at the desolate tub.

None of them had an answer.

* * *

There was a knock at the door and all their necks snapped to face it. Before any of them had even made a move to answer, the thing swung open. Finny stood with a tray and a grin, the same suit, the same hair, the same teeth.

"Morning bucko's!" He strode right on through, placing the tray which was full of toast and jelly's on the unmade bed, "Breakfast! Did you sleep well?"

The Rowdy 3 stared at him, at a loss. Amanda couldn't be sure, as he sat at on the edge of the bed, but the expression of genial curiosity didn't quite touch his eyes.

"Hotel Guy..." Vogel itched his ear as he glanced back at the bathtub.

The smile stiffened, "I've told you, my name's _Finny_."

"Um, yeah." Vogel worried his lip, "Have you seen the Beast?"

"Beast?" Finny tilted his head, like a dog hearing a new sound.

"Even littler guy, rainbow hair." Martin provided, crossing his arms over his chest.

The smile spread into a mischievous grin, "Oh yes! I found it wandering the halls this morning. Not one for talking is it?"

"Where is she?" Amanda gripped Vogel's arm, not sure of the uneasiness in her guts; it felt like a shoe was about to drop.

"Oh, I don't know." Came the answering shrug, "I gave her the keys to the supply closets. I think she was working her way through the linen baskets on the fifth floor last I saw her. Maybe she'll accidentally clean something? I doubt she'll have worked her way into the airducts or the garbage chutes already-" 

"What-" Vogel and Drummer squeaked together.

"Although, I bet she'd like it in there, all dark, and tight, easy to get _stuck_."

"Take us." Martin demanded, looming, "Now."

* * *

The fifth floor was a mess. A Beastly mess. Every supply closet had had its contents ejected into the hall. Chucked about and explored with great interest. Bottles of bleach were laying cap-less on ruined carpets. Towels were strewn about, with bed sheets and pillowcases, all in crumpled little heaps reminiscent of blanket forts. Everything was opened up and inspected before being discarded for something else.

"See?" Finny gestured down the impossible length of the place, "I told you. And, I have to say, I think it's really disrespectful behaviour-"

The boys stormed off, hunting, as Vogel and Amanda, hand in hand, peaked in every room they passed hoping for a sign of their friend. The looks revealed pictures knocked from hooks, doors left open willy-nilly and beds tossed. Those didn't feel right, though. There was no curiosity to some of it. No learning. In fact, _that mess_ seemed to be _pleasing_ Finny. Drummer swallowed hard. A dozen rooms passed, two dozen, more. He tutted and balked in all the right places, but none of it seemed real, until...

"What are _you_ , then?" His attention came round to focus entirely on Amanda.

Drummer glanced at him, distracted by Vogel's worrying thumb, offering no response.

"Those lads down there, I _know_ 'em." Finny inched closer, hand on the wall, pleasantly yet discomfortingly intrigued, as Cross disappeared into a room, "They're not like me, but they're not like anyone else either. It's why they could find me. Regular people don't find _me_."

 _He_ ** _knows_** _them?_ Amanda had to lean away from his yellowing teeth as he pressed in ever closer, saw Martin take to another suite from the corner of her eye, "And, what, you don't like to be found?"

The man outright laughed, "No! By people who trash my rooms? Break my furniture? Smash my doors? Why would I want _that_ to find me? And I doubt very much you'd tag along with such a mad lot if you were normal. So, you've got to be _something_."

Amanda paused, seeing a painting on the ground that she could have sworn they had already passed. Then the three of them looked on to see Gripps wandering into the middle of the hall and turning, looking up and down the endless corridor confused; "There- there's too many rooms..."

"What?" Drummer called as he made off and out of sight, "Wait, Gripps-"

Finny actually grabbed her then, his fingers creaking against the fabric of her jacket as Vogel rushed in immediately, "It doesn't matter, I suppose. We're going to be friends, anyway, you and me-"

"Fuck _that_ , dude." Drummer snapped as Vogel ragged her arm from his grip, and put himself between them.

"Ha!"

Their host thumped the wall with the side of a fist, and in one cacophonous slam every door around them shut; they heard the bolt of over a hundred locks, they heard the boys yelling, then they heard nothing but silence. Echoing, ear-splitting silence. Finny's grin spread into something feral as he stared at the two people left before him.

"Martin!"

"Cross?"

"Gripps..."

Nothing.

"Give them back-" Vogel surged forward, frightened and furious, "Give them back!"

But Finny was already running. A door swinging open ahead of him even though there was nobody there. Laughing as it slammed shut behind him. Locked. The youngest Rowdy rammed forward anyway, kicking and beating until the whole thing buckled and snapped in off its hinges. Rushing in, the room was empty.

* * *

Vogel and Amanda dashed up and down the hall trying rooms and shouting for their friends for what felt like hours. Any doors they broke enough to open were back in place the next time they ran by, unless they had torn it entirely from the hinges. There was nothing but miserable, horrifying silence. And the corridor just wouldn't _end_. It was going straight, both ways, but somehow they were looping. Banging on the same numbers, passing the same unhinged bits of wood and pathetically ugly paintings.

Only when they thought to get to another floor did they realise the elevators were missing, and the fire escapes were gone. Together they stood and stared at the empty space where a set of shiny metal doors should have been. When they turned back down the hallway, the mess Beast had made had disappeared.

After that, nothing else changed for three days.

* * *

It was unclear whose idea it was, but at some point Vogel was pulling open one of the bedroom windows. Ancient rubber seals screeching unhappily in the cool night air. Surrounded by empty peanut packets from the mini-fridges, both of them had had the thought that perhaps they could climb down... That's when they saw Finny.

Before Vogel could start yelling, Amanda slapped her hand over his mouth and dragged him out of sight. Watching, the damnable Hotel Guy was making for their Van. Jump-starting it faster than she expected, fast enough to make her feel nauseous, he was driving off. They couldn't see the laneway, they couldn't see where he went, but from the outside it was like they had never been there.

The lights went out at eleven and the digital clock burst to life again at 02:35AM. The phone rang. Swivelling to stare in the direction of the dated bit of tech sat atop a bedside table, Vogel and Drummer dropped the linen rope they'd been tearing up and tying in the dark. Pressed shoulder to shoulder, they edged over to answer it. She held the phone between both their ears. They said nothing.

"I thought you ought know, they're _gone_." Finny sounded crestfallen, the line popping and buzzing, "Given the _situation_ , when offered the choice, they thought it best to leave you here with me."

Utterly mortified, Drummer grabbed hold of Vogel's arm in the dark. She didn't believe it, she couldn't believe it, wouldn't. Something _had_ to have happened.

"You must not have meant as much to them as you thought. I mean, look outside, they took then Van-"

Amanda hung up. The silence stretching on for some time before Vogel broke it, confused.

"But we _saw_ him-" He muttered.

"Yeah, he's lying." Amanda agreed dragging her hands through her hair with shaking fingers, "He doesn't know we _saw_ him."

"They wouldn't-"

"No, they absolutely would not leave."

The linens were gone.

* * *

The next morning they smashed out the window. It was never going to open wide enough for anyone to climb out, and without a rope? They weren't exactly going to be jumping from the third floor. Upon sweeping the open rooms along the hallway, they saw that all the other bedsheets, pillowcases, and towels had also been removed.

So, Vogel and Amanda decided to throw chairs, clocks, soap bottles and television sets out into the parking lot. They shouted and smashed whatever they could find, hoping. If the boys had received a similar bullshit phone call, they wanted them to see or hear something and know they had not been left alone.

And together, as the days dragged on, Drummer and Vogel fell into the familiar habits. Ones they had formed when they had lost the Rowdy 3, the first time. Huddling into corners to sleep, pressing shoulders together to keep themselves grounded on the difficult days, chatting shit and making stupid noises to fill the silences. It probably wasn't the best strategy, to ignore the situation around them, but they both knew what it was like to sit around frightened, and neither of them wanted to do it again.

Nothing changed anyway. Not until all the peanuts were gone. Every mini-fridge down the entire corridor emptied out. The one TV set left playing the same shitty cat and mouse cartoon over and over and over again.

At least the window stayed broken.

* * *

"Why is it _eating_ the wallpaper?" It was 03:57AM, at the end of the third week, and Amanda sat up with a jolt of horrified inexplicable relief, Beast! "I can fix a crack goddammit, I cannot fix a _fucking hole_!"

"I thought you said everybody left, Findleberry?" She mumbled, rubbing her eyes, pleased to hear him so upset, even though her mind was reeling; had Beast been living on peanuts too? The third floor had run out two days ago.

"No- no. I'm not playing." The phone line crackled and she had to hold the receiver away from her ear, "It's not like I haven't noticed. I've- I've noticed, alright? Not one of _them_ has eaten a thing in damn near a month. They're looking peaky, sure, but they're not ruining my fuckin' walls!"

The boys! More relief flooded through as Vogel pressed his ear against the receiver beside her in the dark; "Well, have you given her any _food_? Like, your snack game is starting to be severely lacking-"

"Why on God's green Earth would I feed it?" He screeched, "Why won't it just _starve_? Why don't _any of them_? What the fuck are you all?"

"I dunno, dude." She groaned lying back down on the bed, "Maybe the cushions will taste better to her later or something?"

"The cushions too?!" Amanda went to hang up the phone, "Look, can't _you_ to get it to stop eating my rooms? I'll- I'll feed you."

Slowly she brought the receiver back to her lips, "You let me have her. You give us some food. I'll stop her hurting your rooms."

The line went dead. An elevator dinged in the distance.

* * *

Vogel and Amanda stood together, hand in hand, in front of the blinding glow of an elevator interior. Now that someone had said it, Amanda could see it; Vogel was pale. In damn near a month he hadn't asked for _any_ kind of feed. Hugging his head to her neck, they stared at the empty conveyance for what felt like an age. They didn't know if it would take them up, or down, or if it would take them anywhere at all. Amanda was the first to take the step forward. Padding onto cool white tiles.

The lights down the corridor flickered and flashed, one exploded with a rain of sparks and Vogel span to defend. Amanda's hand dropped, and the elevator doors began sliding shut faster than they should.

Ramming her hand back out to stop it; "No!"

Vogel whipped around again, and she could see his eyes widening in the closing light. Waving her hand out for him desperately from too small-a-gap, he grabbed the doors and tried to spread them. Nothing moved. Scrabbling and shoving, the metal creaked against their efforts and the elevator lurched violently down. Her stomach rolled, and her elbow twisted to grab his collar - now a good foot above her.

"Vogel," She gasped, mortified, pulling his face into view, "you remember once I had to ask you to really, super trust me? Even though absolutely everything had gone wrong? To stay with me, no matter what?"

He nodded, still pushing, kicking at the doors frantically.

"Well, you've gotta do it again for me, bud." She stroked his cheek, trying to keep her voice level but failing on the verge of panic, "Only, this time, you've gotta _know_ I haven't left you, yeah? Not for a single minute. No matter what he does, what he says, what he wants you to think. I haven't gone fucking anywhere, okay? Okay?"

"Okay." Vogel whimpered, shoving his fingers through the gap to pull at her shoulder.

"If he says differently, he's lying!" Pulling her hand back through, the door snapped in around Vogel's wrist.

"Drummer?" His voice was tiny in the last slither of light.

"Yeah, Gobbo?" She kissed his fingers, pushing his wrist back through so he wouldn't get hurt.

"Love you."

The elevator plummeted.

* * *

The doors slid open, and Amanda heard tearing. Peaking out from between her arms, before her on the threshold was a paper bag. Crawling forward, she opened it to see some sandwiches. They smelled like fish, she figure maybe tuna. Grabbing one, she shoved it into her mouth and groaned, her stomach quietly desperate to receive anything but lukewarm tap water and salted nuts.

In the pitched darkness, as the elevator doors slid shut, she heard more tearing. The crunch of paper between teeth, mixed with small pained little whines. A light flickered. A pinprick in an ocean of black. Clutching the bag tight in a fist, Amanda was up and running.

"Beast!"

A figure was out in the hall in an instant, turning to look away then towards her, hunched and blessedly familiar. They collided in the shadows, arms wrapping tight with horror and joy, legs tangling as they pressed against the wall to make sure they wouldn't be snuck up on. As Beast sniffed and nuzzled her cheeks, Amanda kissed her nose and smoothed her hair. Her forest-thing felt bony in her hands, and she wanted to scream.

"Here-" She whispered, pulling the remaining three sandwiches from the bag and offering them up, "Eat this. Eat. It's okay."

Beast snatched and sniffed, gulped them down so fast Drummer had to wonder if she'd had any peanuts at all. Struggling up, she got them into the room by the light, and was appalled to find it was a supply closet. _He'd given her the keys._ The sound that came out of Amanda's chest was hysterically inhuman as she eyed the dripping sink, and the patch of wall that had been ruined by the starving person clutched to her side.

"Okay." She whispered shakily, eying the shelves full of domestic supplies, "Okay."

"Wanna leave." Beast whined brokenly, and Amanda's hand shot out to grab a bundle of wire hangers from a shelf above their heads.

"Yup." She sniffled, "Let's get on that, buddy."

Twisted and shaped just right, on old doors like the ones all around them, Amanda could make a lockpick out of a wire hanger. Even in the dark, she knew the clicks and twists; had practiced them over and over on dummy locks in her house. Would the Amanda from back then have made it this long without an attack? She supposed that _that_ Amanda didn't exist anymore.

A bedroom popped open before them - the dawn peaking through a distant window. It wasn't right though. It wasn't neat. She could see the shadows of an upended sofa, a smashed TV set...

Supporting Beast against her hip, Drummer grabbed the electric kettle from the tea tray and placed it as a doorstop. As light shone in from the real world, the girls looked at the walls long enough to realise they were a ruin. The wallpaper torn off more absolutely than Beast's foray into an omnivorous diet. Someone had written across the exposed plaster, in what Drummer didn't want to know, and anywhere else, any other time, it would have looked like something petty, like something some petulant teen would have scrawled in a school's toilet-cubicle. Here, though, it felt more like a lingering act of defiance.

PROJECT PYTHON WAS A MISTAKE FINNY

YOU WERE A MISTAKE

TRY AND FIX THAT

And then there was a drawing, a symbol. A circle framed. It looked like a fancy car grill. Or a head surrounded by protruding fingers. Drummer _knew_ it. Hands dipping inside her jacket pockets, she fumbled around the wand still tucked in against her chest and found a 7-11 receipt. There, at the bottom, she'd drawn it, and then she'd crossed it the hell out.

"I think I'm gonna be sick." She muttered, wandering over to the window to let in some air.

When she looked out, her brain fizzled. That was all _wrong_ as well. She'd gone _down._ She knew she'd gone down. They were meant to be on the second floor. So why was this clearly the sixth?


	16. Dream Energy Dream Words (mature)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW:- Attempted Assault

The sixth floor was darker than the others, somehow, and also the most impossible. It was unsettlingly unlit, even throughout the day, and with their coat-hanger key, they found themselves opening doors into rooms that were clearly meant for a different floor; the theme was all wrong or the room number wasn't right. Amanda would go to the window and look out from the first floor, the fourth, the second, but the hallway was always the sixth. Always the same disgusting geometric orange and brown wallpaper-come-carpet.

Finny kept calling in the middle of the night, waking them up in whatever room they'd bedded down in. Even when they tried sleeping in one of the supply closets, he picked the closest phone and just let it _ring_. It was exhausting. Amanda had taken to picking up, then hanging up, after the first few calls proved to be pathetic little whinges about wanting to be friends.

The rooms themselves were bizarre too, in what they contained, or failed to. More than half were absolutely empty, no beds, no chairs, no tables. A handful were torn to shreds, mattresses ripped into, walls peeled, tech smashed. Then there were a dozen others that seemed to be midway through the process of becoming one or the other. Had it been like this before? How many rooms had he shown them up here? It had all been so repetitive, she could hardly remember. How long ago was it even?

They spent two weeks waking up to bags of sandwiches against empty elevator walls. Two weeks with new rooms, she swore, slotting into the same spots as old ones. Two weeks with Amanda being as good as her word, and keeping Beast from damaging anything. Although, it's not like that was hard, all Finny would have had to do was _ask_ her, but it meant they got food - and not just peanuts.

It felt like a war of attrition, nobody quite sure how long the other side would last. Amanda was watching, and waiting, as horrified by their predicament as she was, she knew that Finny was probably the only way out. She could imagine the destruction the boys would have wrought, wherever the hell they were, and was glad of it, but she was trying to be smarter. Or at least, more agreeable to their captor. Something was going to change in their favour, it had to.

So, as the third week rolled in, and another _new_ room stretched out before them, the Beast and Drummer stared inside with muted despair. A decision being made for them when their eyes alit on the contents. Stepping in, Amanda put her hand around the handle of a mallet leant neatly against an empty television stand. She picked it up and cupped the head, knew the dents before she saw them.

"Gripps..."

Beast whined and scooped up a screwdriver from the bedside table, her thumb running over the butt of the handle. Amanda could remember watching Cross etching a '3' there. They'd gotten the darn thing as replacement for when the last one that got stuck somewhere stupid. Who had been the last to have it?

"Martin?"

That couldn't be right. He'd been keeping them separate. Had he moved this room up to the sixth floor by mistake? The boys hadn't been in a room together since, had they?

The phone rang.

Amanda didn't wait for him to speak; "You said you knew them."

"Who?" He was momentarily taken a-back, and to be fair to him, she hadn't said a word in days, "Oh- Oh, I _do_."

"How?" She squeezed the mallet in her hand, and could feel the cool metal taking on her body heat.

"Now is this really-"

"How!" As quick as they taught her, as quick as she could, she threw the mallet forward and it made a sizeable dent in the wall.

Finny was silent for some time before he answered - his anger thinly veiled; "How did you get _that_?"

Mistake then; "Did you forget what floor you put us on, Finzpatrick? Is six at once too many for you, bud? Are you losing track?" When she received nothing but silence as her answer, she returned to her previous tact, " _How_?"

"I'm sure you can _guess_."

"Blackwing." She pulled the mallet back out of the wall as Beast bounced around the hole, inspecting and prodding, making an actual break in the plaster.

"Quick as a whip you are." Finny growled, "I can see why they _like_ you."

Drummer was piecing it together now, she thought; "You were a prisoner there too."

"Was I?" Or maybe she wasn't, she waited for him to elaborate, "I remember _your lads._ I remember them trying to escape. It happened a few times, in fact. They never got far. Could never figure out the halls. They _move_ , you see? _I move them_." Amanda took a shaky breath, letting that marinate, "I got to play with so many things. They gave me screens so I could _watch_. I could spend hours making their little mice run-"

" _Why_ would you _help_ Blackwing?"

"Help? Help! Woman, I _was_ Blackwing!" She could practically hear the spit flying from his mouth, "Without _me_ , they would never have kept anybody. Without me, their precious _Projects_ would have torn the place apart. I mean, they certainly fucking tried. _Your lads_..."

"Bit rowdy, were they?"

The grunt he made in the back of his throat was frustrated, "Of course, it was all very _repetitive_. I got bored, to be honest, and tired of cleaning up the messes - getting no thanks for it. They tried to get me to stay. Oh yes, they begged, they pleaded, but they were squandering me in that little basement of theirs. I hear the place didn't last long after I left. Perhaps they should have appreciated me more."

Did he not know about the Gog? "Who wrote on the walls in 623?"

"I don't know."

"You're lying." Amanda hung up.

* * *

Two months, or there abouts, they had been stuck in Finny's maze. Whilst she and Beast were fed (no matter how poorly now that they had lost their sandwich privileges), Amanda was growing more and more concerned that the boys _weren't_. She remembered what they looked like when they were first spat out of the pool in Wendimoor...

Things were starting to feel urgent. Nothing had changed, nothing she could _see_ , but the air felt tight. Her nerves buzzed and Drummer found it hard to stay still. Finny hadn't brought them anything since she broke the wall. Beast hovered around her, sharing the same anxious energy as they went in and out of rooms until they lost count.

They carried the mallet, the screwdriver, never putting them down. They didn't want to lose them. If a door shut, there was no guarantee when they opened it again it would be the same room. Everything was frozen, and yet it felt like things were moving at a thousand miles an hour. They needed to gain some control.

Now that they had the means, Amanda and Beast started removing doors. Slowly but surely making the corridor concrete in its formation. They would knock holes between rooms with the mallet, freezing the configuration as they found it. It was exhausting, but the more damage they did, the less Finny would call. They could get a solid nights sleep. Eating peanuts in the dark.

It took a few days for Amanda to realise her useless hurry, her adrenal buzz, the action she had put into locking down the hall, was the boys. She had felt for them, and maybe they caught the echo. At the very least they had shared something back, given her energy. It was the first time she'd felt anything of them... Was Finny getting tired?

* * *

"What did he do to me?!" Was screamed in her ear at 12:28AM, she sat up straight in the dark, "That- that _freak_! What did he do? I feel _empty_!"

"Was it blue?" She closed her eyes and hoped.

"What was it?" He shrieked, "That little fucker-"

Amanda put the phone down, turned to Beast who was watching her in the dark; "I think it's time we made a move, bud. He seems to be losing the thread."

The girls made for the farthest supply closet, with the laundry and garbage chutes. They pulled out the flap on the laundry one. It was uselessly narrow even when open, so Beast held it steady as Amanda swung down hard with the mallet. She tried not think about why Finny was anywhere near one of the boys. The flap bent out, snapped open so wide a person could crawl in. She tried not to think about what he was doing to get caught. Beast hopped up and slid inside, the screwdriver between her teeth. Drummer focused on the relief instead. One of them had fed, the repulsiveness of the source didn't matter... Except that it _really did_.

Amanda leaned into the chute to kiss Beast's forehead as the woman hissed and scraped her bare feet against cold metal. It mattered to Drummer. The idea of one of them taking the energy from Finny and not _her_. It was sickening. It never had been before. The people they fed on were nobody, passing snacks who maybe, probably, usually deserved it, but Finny? She didn't want him anywhere _near_ them. She didn't want him anywhere near her.

"Find one of the boys." Amanda whispered desperately as Beast slowly vanished from sight, "Doesn't matter which one!"

For what felt like an age, she listened for the sound of kicking, noises of ruckus, sounds of speech. Prayed not to hear the distant horrific bangs of someone falling. There was nothing but silence. Nothing but her own heartbeat.

She was alone.

* * *

The following night Amanda had done nothing, she had broken no doors, smashed no walls. She had sat and waited, for a sound, for a feeling, for a hope, anything. She was tired, she was hungry, so of course at 01:18AM the phone rang.

"He lied to me." Finny sniffled down the line, "Found me at a diner in town, and sat down for a chat. He said they wanted to work together again. That it would be a _partnership_. That we were still friends."

Amanda listened.

"I even made some suggestions, on- on how they could do things better, make things more appealing... but all they wanted was more of those big white walls. An- and even though he said we could talk about it, I could tell it wasn't right." There was the shift of a body, a fidget of clothes, "So I looked through his stuff after I invited him back to 623... He thought I was a Project. A subject! I- I thought- Nobody _told me_. I did everything for him, because we were supposed to be friends. He _used_ me. Played me like a fiddle for _them_."

"Did you kill him?" She figured she already knew the answer.

"He killed himself. The second he walked in here." Finny sighed loudly, "Even though I _hated_ him, more than I think I've ever hated anyone, it was nice to not be so alone for a while."

Project Blackwing, AKA a sea of lonely people all just hoping for a friend to follow them down the rabbit hole of the Universe's bullshit.

"Why do you like them, and not me?" Frustrated Finny sounded like a teenager, "Why has everyone I've brought back here decided to lie? Tried to leave, tried to _hurt me_? What do they say that I haven't? What do they do for you, that I can't? What's wrong with you?" 

"Findleton, has it ever occurred to you what your one common denominator is?" Silence as she yawned, "It's you, dude. You're the _moron_ with the problem."

* * *

_The bathtub was huge. The biggest one she'd seen. And it was full, the water steaming and cream. A pair of legs were dangling lazily over the edge. Feet scrunching and unfurling. Amanda stepped closer. Cross' face broke the surface, and he smiled up at her. His body pulled in slowly towards the side of the tub, and she could see the muscles in his legs tensing._

_"Drummer..."_

_As he grabbed the edge and rose, she leaned in to meet his lips. Felt the tickle of facial hair and smiled against his teeth. Ran her tongue along the enamel. Hands on his shoulders, she pushed him back down into the water, dipped her fingers into the delicious warmth and took a-hold. The man sighed, his hands against the ceramic creaking as his legs spread and his body dipped. As she worked him, she leaned over to watch him like a God might her pawn._

_Fast, tight, intentional, she pulled up her gown - long and white - and stepped into the water over him. Coming down on her knees at his hips as he gasped and juddered and moaned. Ran her thumb over the tip, reached down to squeeze his sack. Pressed her forehead to his as she made him writhe for her. She could feel his desperate aching want, a boil in her gut that made her want to squeeze until the planet popped. She closed her eyes, and relished in the sounds he made._

_When lips brushed against her eyelids, she opened them to find Martin. Hungrily, roughly, he grabbed her face and kissed her hard. She could taste his need in the spark of their tongues. His hands were shaking as he held her face, his nails pinching her skin. Brow to brow, she felt the buzz of violence, the furious hunger. He was her monster, and she was on the verge of unleashing him. She closed her eyes and worked him until he was ragged._

_Hands gripped her thighs, as hips bucked into her fist. She smiled when Gripps' pressed hot open kisses along her throat, when his teeth nipped at her jaw. Drummer squeezed him as hard as she now knew he liked, and he whistled a low aching breath as the water swirled around them. He stroked over to squeeze her ass, and she whined at the throb in her pussy. Pulling her down to his kiss, she knew the pain of his starvation, and the pool in his guts as he craved her. She could feed him, she was all the energy they would ever need. She closed her eyes and brought him quickly to his bliss._

_Vogel's hands scratched through her hair, rubbing in at the roots as she looked down over him. Wanton and wavering under her endless caress, he pulled her head left and spread gentle desperate pecks up the side of her face. Kissed the pearls of sweat from her brow before he groaned his pleasure right into her ear. She felt the slick wetness of his tongue and shivered as she caught the wave of her own flavour in her own mouth. He was so hungry, he was so tired, he was scared of the end of this. She took him over, benevolent and splendid._

_"Drummer..."_

_Amanda knelt in an empty bathtub, lukewarm water up to her hips. Sloshing as she turned around, all four of them stood naked and dripping, eyes glowing as she rose to offer he hands to them. Electric was the buzz of her power, seeping from fingertips towards them as they lurched like starved, half-crazed things. Their skin was grey, their eyes had impossibly paled. They looked every bit the creatures they were, and she_ **_wanted them all_ ** _so desperately._

_Then the walls began to crack and crumble, the floor beneath them splitting, the bathtub lurched and she knew something was ending._

_"I'm on my way! I'm coming!"_

* * *

There were hands on her. That's why she was awake. There were hands on her chest, her throat, her mouth, and they weren't the hands of anyone who had permission to put them there. She was kicking and screaming before she was even fully conscious. Scrambling away onto the floor in heaving horror, pulling her jacket tight over her chest. Spinning to see her assailant in the dark.

A shadow that could only be Finny stood before her like a goddamn cattle-herder, arms raised as though he was trying to pen in a raging bull. There were no words, no sentences to describe the violation. She roared at him, the bile in her throat rising as he barely even recoiled at the noise.

He took a step closer, and she leapt up on top of the sofa and screeched. Felt a scraping, stab of something writhing over her heart. He kept moving forward and she had _nothing_ to defend herself with. The mallet was on the bed. She made a dive for it. Hands closed around her body that had no fucking right to be there. She scratched and struggled, and that swirling vortex of pain over her heart was growing.

She hit the floor with him on top of her. Was he talking? What was he saying? It didn't fucking matter. Amanda's chest was about to burst as she scraped at the carpet and tried to get away. He shoved her over to face him, and they both saw the red glow coming from inside her jacket. The Wand?

Both their hands went for it, and as he tried to yank the bit of weird wood from her grasp Amanda screamed and lurched up. Her chest erupted with horror. There was a spray of blood so violent it seemed unreal. A writhing pillar of barbed wire tore out of Amanda's ribs and up into the air. Finny was catapulted away as the metal screeched up against the ceiling and scraped down over the walls like a fountain.

"Get away from me!"

The agony was astounding as more and more wriggling shifting strings erupted from her chest. There was blood in her mouth, pouring from her nose, pooling in her eyes as she gripped the Wand and wailed. She heard Finny screaming, she heard him running, she heard the mass of steel tearing apart the walls and slamming into plaster, the splintering of wood and the smashing of glass. She heard it all because she could not see. She was being pulled backstage.

As her skin rippled and ripped around the hole above her heart, she shuddered on the ground and screamed. She could see nothing but stars, swirling in and around, up and down, colliding and separating. They sparkled and gleamed. Hundreds moved together in a continuous flow stuck in a perpetual conga-line of gravity. Others bounced around like comets, slamming into other celestial bodies and ricocheting into the black.

A cluster writhed before her, growing bright and frantic, stuck in an unending collective orbit. They span faster and faster until they were just a single searing loop. A violent raging star shone between them, holding them in its gravitational pull until it was exploding. All its light and life and power shattering into nothing as the spinning vortex sucked up what was left. There was nothing between them but oblivion. Amanda dove headfirst into that nothingness.

* * *

Something hurt. Something hurt so bad it felt like heartbreak. As consciousness came, Amanda could _still_ feel the tearing of skin, the writhing of metal, the crush of bones. She couldn't open the hand with which she clutched the Wand. As her eyes blinked up from where she lay on the hotel room floor, the world was split in two. It was as though she had a hand in front of her face, dividing the view. On one side of it everything was real and true, and terrible. Then on the other... it was like looking at a strange shifting impression of reality; there was almost no colour, and yet everything was gold.

Metal moved above her, like seaweed following a current. It crawled towards the door, shredding every surface it squirmed over. It was a rising shadow, spreading its own version of the dark. Blood browning in the torn-up walls. It had _all_ come from her. Why was it _still_ there?

Sitting up, gasping and hissing, her chest and arm were heavy. The eye seated in reality saw wire protruding from gore, saw blood seeping from her chest and out over the floor, saw barbed tendrils beating with her heart and wrapping down around her arm. It all ached beyond anything she could describe. When she got to the meaty expanse of her ruined hand, the Wand glowing red intermingled with her disjointed fingers, she wailed in horror. Trying to drop the Wand, to push it away, the barbed-wire dug in tighter, made Drummer scream and roll. In the eye that saw the surreal, it was a tentacle of ethereal light and it lashed out with her pain. A piece of the ceiling fell in.

Struggling to her feet, the mad expanse of metal around her gripped, contracted, then released. The surfaces of the walls cracking and falling as it all retreated into her chest. It felt like dying. She choked and spewed blood, her insides were being chewed up and the pressure needed to be spat out. There was a grinder in her chest, over her heart.

The walls didn't return to normal once her hallucination stopped touching them. The blood didn't vanish, the holes stayed the same. The Wand glowed and thrummed with each beat of her pulse. Amanda pushed out of her mind that it wasn't normal, ignored the mortifying evidence that what was happening might be _real_. There wasn't time for it.

Somebody was _moving_ and every bit of steel shifted towards the door like the metal had ears of its own. It swarmed the frame as she pulled herself towards it, crying out uselessly against the staggering pain. She was pissed, she was furious, she was done with this _shit_. The mad writhing extension of her limbs spewed out into the hall as she howled and stumbled after it. She glanced back when she heard a dull thud and dragging, to see the wires pulling Gripps' mallet along behind her. The elevator was dinging, and Amanda was rushing towards it so fast she hardly seemed to be walking. 

Finny was fleeing. She saw the shape of him dash inside the elevator as the horror in her chest erupted again. Driving into the doors and pulling them apart as she ran, as best she could, after the piece of shit. Blood dripping out of her mouth, she looked through the gap as her wires strained and creaked. His terrified face looked up at her. Through one eye he was Finny. Through the other, he was a snake, a shadow, a corpse, the vague pre-tense of a man's shape - shifting and swapping, revealing the truth of him.

"Let them out!" She screeched, and saw droplets of red fly onto his face, fire alighting his form as he squealed like a goddamn baby.

"What the fuck are you?!" He wailed, pressing as far back away from her as he could as the elevator dropped away and out of sight.

She didn't even know anymore, "LET THEM OUT!" 

Whatever Amanda was, she was moving down the hall like a terror. Tearing up everything with her walking whacking wires, glass smashed and carpets tore as she made for where the fire escapes used to be. Her new limb tossed the mallet into her hand. Every action an agony, every move a sufferance, with a hand of flesh and a grip of steel she swung at the wall. She swung until it crumpled, until it caved, until she felt like she might faint, until she saw the darkened staircase. The wires took over from there, tearing out the plaster and brick in a mad cacophony of dust and debris.

Climbing through, she could make out the deep well of stairs. Finally she could be sure she'd been on the sixth floor. Struggling down, she started beating again on the nearest landing. Making a hole and tearing it asunder until she was staggering forth onto the first new corridor she'd seen in _weeks_. Her clothes were so soaked she could hardly move in them, her nose filled with the smell of iron. When she saw two sets of glowing eyes turn her way in the dark, she fainted. 

* * *

"What the fuck, man?" There were hands on her face, around her body, in her hair, "What the _fuck_?!"

"Drummer?" She felt lips against her forehead as she realised she was still on her feet - the metal clinging to the ceiling with her arm trapped inside had kept her standing.

She lurched forward with a wail and grabbed hold of one of them, she couldn't see who in the dark, but could tell it was Martin. Her vision was spinning, one side could only see the glow of their eyes, the other could see golden celestial shapes, heaving riotous dogs, beautiful little boys; overwhelmingly beautiful little boys. Their bodies pressed in tightly, their hands everywhere, their breath over her face. She couldn't see how pale they were, how grey, and she was glad of it.

"What's happened to her eye?" Cross kissed at her brow as Martin stroked at her cheek, "What the fuck's coming out of her chest?"

"Eat it." She whimpered, reaching for them both.

"Drummer Girl, you're _really_ bleeding." Martin gripped her cheek as she felt on the verge of collapse, "I don't think-"

"So don't think!" She laughed breathlessly as her knees gave out, "Just eat it."

Their mouths pressed in against hers as they hauled her energy, and the darkness fled under their glistening glowing blue. The burst of light revealed the dark veins on their cheeks, the shadows of starvation they carried. Amanda wanted to weep. Their foreheads pressed in against hers, and with a tearful hiss, she was overcome by their intense sense of relief - and not from being fed, but for finding her.

Everything started rushing in, ripping across her skin and burrowing between her ribs. When she screamed the boys stopped eating, but she pulled them in roughly and demanded they take more. They consumed her pain until the Wand clattered to the floor, and the barbed wire retreated, until the hole in her chest closed. She gave out in their hands and blissfully felt _nothing_.

Fingers stroked the tender raw flesh of her chest, where she could feel the skin had knitted back together twisted and bizarre. She felt unmade, weaker than a mouse in an owls beak, about to snap in half with just the right twist. Rocking up into waiting arms, she gripped Martin and Cross tightly as they hunched about her.

"You figure out that smell yet?" Amanda's was a breathless giggle as their lips pressed to her forehead and their hands took most of her weight.

She could feel Martin nodding, the way his hand tightened in her clothes, and his voice was furious - low; "Should've realised it sooner. Could've-"

"Shoulda, woulda, coulda..." The elation Drummer felt to have them near her again was making her almost hysterical, "How the fuck are you two together?"

"Got lucky two days ago." Cross muttered as his thumb ran along her chin, "Pried up a floorboard right over Mart'."

"The other boys? Beast?"

* * *

Making their way down, they broke in on the third floor, where Vogel had last been and she prayed he still was. They were moving quickly, Cross and Martin tearing at the walls with the crowbar and mallet. Drummer sat on the stairs, unable to see in the pitched dark. She could hardly walk, her limbs were too heavy and too light all at once. Her heart was racing, but she kept teetering on the verge of passing out.

Shouting with relief, she lurched forward when she heard hands burst through towards them and tear at the plaster to speed up the work. Amanda reached over the Rowdies to take hold of those hands. She kissed them and gripped them until the hole was big enough to drag him through. Vogel's body was heavy on top of her as his shining eyes took in her face and stroked at her hair. The Wand dug hard into her ribs where it was pressed between them.

"Are you okay?" He whispered hectically, his fingers on her cold and clammy face, "You're not okay. Why aren't you okay?"

There was no time for that; "Is Beast with you?" 

"No- no. I've been alone since-" Since the elevator, since they were ripped from each other, since he'd said what he'd said.

Vogel kissed her then and her arms wrapped around him tightly, because honestly she was on the verge of tears; "You can feed."

And as he rubbed his face into hers, like a cat on the hunt for affection, he did. The burst of blue filling the stairwell. They'd never fed from her like this, no attack, no sex, no pain. It felt different. She could always feel the energy travel, but with no pain to distract, no pleasure to overwhelm the sensation? It was just pins and needles all over, limbs falling asleep, a strange build of pressure that was altogether not unpleasant. She shuddered on the floor as he took.

"Not too much, man." She heard Cross mumble as everything went dark, and the boys pulled them up onto their feet, "She's running on empty. We've gotta get her out of here."

"Should I be concerned?" Amanda asked, feeling dumb as she stumbled against Vogel's side.

They had to get moving again, sharpish. So, Cross kissed her hair instead of answering as he made off down the stairs. When Vogel realised how unsteady Amanda was on her feet, he pulled her up onto his back and carried her. Martin was already hammering into the second floor by the time they got there.

"We can't just fucking leave..." Amanda protested thickly, Vogel hiking her up on his hips.

Martin pulled away from the wall as Cross drove the crowbar in. He strode over to cup her ears.

"Drummer, you've lost too much blood." His voice was calm, emphatic, for which she was grateful because hearing him was like being stuck under water, but his hands were shaking, "And you ain't like us."

Clumsily she smacked away his hand; "We can't just let him keep doing this! He's killed people, Martin."

"Gonna let him kill _you_?" Martin hissed, he was _so_ angry, she could feel it rolling off of him.

"Hey!" Amanda shuddered with relief to hear Gripps, "Gimme my damn mallet! I wanna _go_!"

"Is Beast with you?" She cried as Martin rushed away to shove the handle through the hole in the wall.

"Yuuup." Gripps called back as he began beating from his side, and Amanda wiped tears from her eyes, "She needs like twenty-three burgers and six sodas from where I'm standing."

"And at least two whole dang pies, bud!" Amanda laughed back.

"Where's that little _prick_?" Gripps was _going for it,_ making quicker work than any of them had of the wall before him, "I gonna give him a _scathing_ review, with my goddamn fists."

Then the Rowdy 3 were together on the stairwell. Finally a single unit, instead of separate parts. It had been two months. Amanda hated that she couldn't _see_ any of them. She felt Gripps' fingers dig into her shoulder, Beast's hands on her back. She heard more bodies coming into contact with each other, wordless 'hello's' and 'thank the hells you're okay's'.

"You look like shit." Gripps stated, and it seemed to be broadly aimed at everyone.

Then they were moving again. Crashing through onto the first floor, where the lights were on. The brightness blinding as it broke in on their unrelenting dark. The Rowdy 3 poured out onto glistening tiles, each facing a different direction as they took in the empty lobby, weapons raised and waiting. There was no sign of Finny, but also...

"Where are the doors?"

Where there had once been a wall of windows, and spinning glass doors, there was now an infinite expanse of exposed bricks. A person might even think it looked tasteful, if not for the sinister fact it meant there was no fucking exit. Their footsteps echoed as they hurried forward, Vogel putting Amanda down so that he could help with attacking the walls.

In the light she watched them all and shivered, her breathing shallow. They looked like hell. Their skin sallow and greying. Their eyes almost alien, the colour having faded from their irises, the skin about them red raw. They looked almost like walking corpses, their veins darkened and risen to the surface. She'd given them what she could, but it hadn't been enough.

Looking down at herself, Drummer was almost as grey as they were. Her fingers shaking no matter what she did to still them. Heart beating so fast she could _feel_ it, when she looked over her clothes they were practically black with blood. Her shirt was torn open all the way to the navel, and on her stained skin she could see the scar the attack had left her with.

It looked like a circular saw. The surface knotted and scratched, it had healed almost in a spiral. Rubbing her hand against it, ensuring it was real, she then saw the state of her arm. The jacket was ruined, torn to rags, and the skin down her right side reminded her of a fun-fair helter-skelter; the slide coming to it's climax against her fingers. It had been real then. It had been _physical_. Surely that was impossible? Not here. Not outside of Wendimoor.

Amanda reached inside the ruins of her clothes and gripped the Wand tightly. It had come from a land of dreams, and sure, words could make it work but was Pararibulitis a close enough second? Had the darn thing actually _done something_? Distracted by the thought, she didn't hear the door opening to the side, behind the reception. And in the state she was in, she would have needed weeks notice to react to Finny as he dived for her.

Hands closed around her throat as she screeched and the Rowdy 3 turned to heed her. They advanced as she was rammed against a wall and lifted. Finny was screaming about his rooms, about his furniture, about how much he hated them, how much he hated her. Everything was getting reedy as he squeezed, but Amanda wasn't dead _yet_.

Gripping his arms she brought her feet up gainst his thighs. With all the weight she could muster, she came down atop the bend of his elbows, and headbutted him hard in the face. The man spiralled away, the lights flickering violently overhead as he sprawled out against the tiles. A mallet came in hard against his ribs, a crowbar made a gruesome connection with his spine, feet and fists drove into him until the man was unconscious in a pool of his own bloody spittle. The lights went out with his consciousness.

Holding herself up weakly against the wall, her lip stung as hands hurried in to check her, she could tell by the callouses it was Martin. His thumbs rough against her cheeks, he pushed at her skin and inspected all her teeth. The lip was split, she could tell, which meant _more_ bleeding. Growling in her face, he turned to the body at their feet. She could hear the boys hovering, weapons ready for the slightest movement. Amanda grabbed Martin's arm in the dark.

"What are we going to do?" She gasped, her voice raw, "We _can't_ kill him."

Martin's teeth snapped as she knew he bared them, "Give me one good reason-"

"He's a freak. He's like us." Amanda couldn't pull together the words.

"Like hell he is!" Gripps spat as Beast growled beside him.

"We don't hurt weirdos!" There had to be a line, there had to be cut-off point, "We _help_ them."

"The way he 'helped' us, man?" Cross scoffed.

"There has to be _something_." Amanda's voice quivered, "If he didn't have powers we- we could just give him to the police. He's hurt more than just _us_. I think he's brought normal people back here. Their families deserve to know."

"He goes to prison, and it turns into his own personal torture-hole." Martin breathed over Amanda's face as she teetered beside him, she understood that, "Better off for everybody if he's dead."

"Even for us? Are we going to cross that line, dude?"

"We'll get out of here."

"That's _not_ what I meant. You know that."

The Rowdy 3 stood over Finny. Finny the bastard, Finny the murderer, Finny the Hotel Guy and stared. They were stuck. They couldn't leave him, they couldn't give him away, they couldn't get rid of him. Not without sacrificing a bit of themselves Amanda was exceptionally unwilling to give. Maybe that made them hypocrites. She knew they hurt a lot of people from Blackwing, that normal folk had sometimes even been their collateral damage. Why were freaks to be held sacred? They just were. Like the vultures who didn't eat birds, weirdos were off limits.

Beast was chirruping and fidgeting as their immobility stretched on. Hurrying forward her hands dug around inside Amanda's jacket, making her jump. The Wand was pulled out into the open. She shoved it into Drummer's grasp and started making even more noises. Until she settled on a word, a weird one, one none of them had ever heard. The Wand lit up and they all jumped at the sight of it, Amanda dropped the thing entirely. Tutting, Beast scooped it up and put it back. Repeating the weird-word.

"What's-" Amanda started.

"Means 'steal'." Beast chittered as the Wand lit up.

"Steal what?" Martin muttered.

Pointing at Finny under the dull Wand glow, Beast repeated; "Steal."

"Why do you know that?" Gripps asked their forest-friend as Amanda held out the Wand over Finny.

"Wendimoor words." Beast shrugged, "Old ones. I hear. I see."

With Beast's instruction, Amanda repeated the word, and jumped when the Wand not only lit up brighter, but began vibrating. She said it again, more surely, and the Wand lurched in her grasp towards Finny. Slowly, as if pulling on a tapeworm, energy started seeping out of him. Right into the crystal. It was like tugging on a rope made entirely of light, of power. Amanda felt warmer, she felt calmer, she felt better.

Around them the Hotel began to change. The building seeming to spiral forward in time, aging before their eyes. The walls peeled, and the floors dirtied, ceiling tiles crumbled. The bricks that penned them in disappeared in waves as the Hotel fell into destitution, and they felt the cool breeze of freedom around them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Editorial note:- Python Mythos
> 
> A huge Serpent. An Oracle and Guardian of the Subterranean. Killed by a God in vengence for the mistreatment of their mother (carried out at the behest of another God).


	17. Show Me a Conscience with Nothing to Eat (explicit)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gripps centric

They'd left all of her clothes with Finny, bloodstained and ruined. She hoped it would be enough. Whatever was on them would match what she'd spat on his face, had left all over his walls. Tied and gagged, the police would find him on the ruined hotel floor, and the thought had Amanda buzzing, fit to burst with more energy than she'd ever had. That hollow shell, a freak no more, caught and bound. It was _satisfying_ , but admitting that sickened her.

Amanda stared at strange black markings that had appeared on her hands. They were like flames up her knuckles, full of strange geometric shapes and alien faces. She'd done something terrible, something magnificent, and there was her proof. Would it last forever? The nausea rose as Martin carefully reached over to grip her fingers, he was driving them away from the distant sounds of sirens. Disgusted with herself, not him - never him, Drummer shoved his hand off and shuffled away.

"Don't _do_ that." She snapped, and shuddered with revulsion at herself as he pulled the Van up abruptly by the side of the road.

They had found it abandoned, driven into a ditch some ways down the highway. Half their shit had been tossed out by Gods only knew who, but the Rowdy 3 suspected it was the man they'd left to face the music; he'd been screaming, panicked and in pain, and Amanda was _glad_. Glad! She'd _ruined_ him. Reduced him to a fucking normie. And she'd clambered in before the boys could start _complimenting_ her for it. 

"Drummer-" Martin was leaning, his heat and weight closing in as she pressed against the window, and she felt like if he touched her she would explode - because that's what he wanted, to touch her.

"How can you even-" She choked as she booted the door open, forcing space between her and him.

Jerking as the side door quickly rocked open, hands grabbed for her that Amanda slapped away. The Rowdy 3 clambered out and after her in the dark. In nothing but Cross' hoody, the soil and grass was cold under the soles of her feet as she practically ran away from them.

A _line_ had been crossed. One that had to _mean_ something. They hadn't killed Finny, but they'd _changed_ him. No, _she_ had changed him. Justified as she felt she was that she'd done it, she was also horrified. For petes sake, she could have _stopped_. At any point. As soon as she realised what the Wand was doing she could have walked away. Only, she didn't. Sure, there was no blood on her hands, but she was stained, marred, marked now. 

Amanda didn't know where she was going, but she also didn't care. Could hardly even fucking see. She stumbled over a rock whose edges were cruel and, again, hands caught her.

"Hey it's okay, Boss-"

"No it's not!" She shouted, but instead of releasing her, Vogel's grip tightened, and she wanted those fingers to sizzle like she was made of hot coals, "Stop being fucking _nice_ to me!"

Amanda rounded on him roughly, expecting more distance than she got. The dull light of the Van interior cast the boys as encroaching shadows, and they were only _inches_ away. Crowding in hunched and heavy, she was surrounded by them, and they were _hungry_ ; she could see it in the way they moved, in the way they breathed, in how their essence hummed. She wanted to feed them every bit of her she had, it was theirs, but what the fuck _was she_ anymore? A magnitude of monster even they had never been? All at once, she wanted them on her, inside her, taking her, but at the same time she never wanted them to touch her ever again; to taint their own fingers.

"What are you _doing_?" She elbowed Gripps as he reached for her arm, stood on Cross' foot as his chest pressed in against her shoulder, "You should be _running_ from me! You saw what I did!"

"Yeah, you saved-" 

"No!" Something snapped, something inside her skeleton warped, and suddenly she was an explosion of bone.

The pocket of her hoody burst with bright red light as the boys were rocketed away from her by the sheer force of her attack. Along her spine, out of her joints, from every expanse of her limbs her bones erupted spikes. They tore through her skin and shot up into the dark, dripping and deformed. A goddamn puffer-fish in human form. Blood spewed from her mouth as she sprouted a dozen more jagged teeth, and her skull split. She was a thousand wounds, a million fractures, a billion pains.

"You can't say shit like- This isn't _normal_!" Amanda screamed as they circled and stared like wolves around prey, watched her scratching at her own skin, protrusions rising on her ribs, rippling up her thighs, her fists looking more like mace-heads as she stumbled and wept, "This is so fucked."

Pulling out the Wand, she clumsily brandished it at their shifting shapes in the dark, "You think I didn't want to hurt him? I wanted to tear his goddamn eyes out! I _stole_ what he was, do you _get that_? Do you get that I'm fucking happy about it?" Her voice broke as she gestured desperately at her rapidly expanding mass of bone, "You're not _safe_ with me! I could just as easily rip what makes you away too."

The boys said _nothing_. Their heads dipping, and their feet taking them around her. They were stupid questions she was asking. _Of course they knew_. They knew everything she ever felt. And even though she couldn't see their faces in the dark, she could see the persistence of their bodies wanting of her. It was so pronounced she wondered if they were hungry enough to be _blind._ In they stepped and...

"Why aren't you listening to me?" She sobbed, every bit of her vibrating to let them have her anyway, "Why won't you _hate_ me? You _should_. I destroyed him..."

Her bones gave another violent push outward and she wailed at the blackened sky. The sensation was astounding as her body manifested physical distance; they couldn't touch what they couldn't reach. There was a cool flash of blue. The rush of her pain slipping away in a myriad of different directions. The howling intake of starved beasts echoed into the night as the Wand crackled and burst in her grasp.

Her bones creaked and shook, and Amanda huddled in desperately. They _had_ to eat, and at least they weren't touching her, caressing her, caring for her like this. She tried to keep the nightmare pulsing, to chase it down and make it last. The agony of her spine growing to an almost paralysing height before she tossed the cursed bit of wood away into the grass.

Quickly she realised possessing it seemed to be the thing. As soon as the Wand was gone, the boys were back on her. Their hands at her clothes, on her skin, in her hair, hungrier now than before. Always hungry for _more of her_. She laughed hysterically. Vogel's nose against hers, Martin's nails digging into her thighs, Cross' lips on the back of her neck, Gripps' breath in her ear; she hated it, she loved it, she didn't deserve it. Huddled together in the muck and the dark, the spikes receded under her skin, shoving back into her bones. Their mouths pulling up tight and wet and close.

They didn't stop with the pain, either. When it was done, when the attack was gone, the Rowdy 3 still ate. The sensation no longer a relief but a sharing of something. Her fingers tingled and her legs went heavy, pins and needles, and mindless static. Amanda found herself gripping arms, pulling at hair, rubbing against lips. Their skin so sharp against her half-numbed body. It was as though she'd fallen asleep on top of a limb, starved of blood to the point of pain, but then the blood was rushing back in - and everything that came in contact with her was surreal and smooth, and stinging. As if she'd forgotten what touch was.

The boys' eyes were glowing as teeth nipped at her ears, and fingers scraped up between her legs, and she wanted to scream and kick and smack. She wanted them to be beating the shit out of her. Why were they _loving_ her? The bottomless light of their feed faded and her hands finally found the resolve to try and push them away. The Rowdy 3 caught her arms and yanked them in against themselves - restraining her as she hissed and whimpered, stilling as they started to finally speak...

"Mm," Cross' lips were right against her skin as his hot fingers slid heavily up her spine, raising the hoody, exposing her body to the cool night air, "do anything for you, Drummer."

"Kill." Martin growled, dropping to his knees and kissing her thighs, pulling a leg up over his shoulder as he worked towards her snatch fast and rough and she whined.

"Die." Vogel whispered, his hand pressing into her chest and kneading her tits with deliciously warm hands that made her heart ache as her arms were raised above her head.

"Walk away from a fight." Gripps half-joked before yanking the hoody up and off, baring her pale skin to the starlight, and claiming her mouth for his own, the split in her lip stinging.

They let go of her arms then, and she could have made them stop but...

"To keep you safe, Boss." Vogel was kissing up her sternum and over her throat and her eyes rolled at the weight of their bodies closing in.

"You're _mine_." Martin buried his face in the warmth of her core, his tongue wide and vicious as he drove in on her clit and pulled her ass up tight.

"Mine." The boys echoed his sentiment just as physically, mouths and teeth and hands over every bit of her they could reach, and Amanda writhed for them in the dark. 

"You really think we'd walk away, man, just cos you'd do the same?" Cross asked gently as her head lolled back onto his shoulder, and he watched Gripps' tongue dance with her own.

"I'm gonna take every bit of you." Martin breathed against her as she bared her teeth at them in some feral way she couldn't quite control, and he bit at her skin.

"Even the terrible." Vogel smiled, sucking in one of her nipples as Cross' fingers swept round to capture the other.

" _Especially_ the terrible." Gripps said, right against her teeth.

"You can be our monster too, yeah?" Cross pecked at her cheek, and Amanda found she liked that better than _saviour_ , better than hero. Monster, she could work with monster.

They were right, about her, about themselves. Even if she had let them kill Finny, Amanda knew she still wouldn't have left. There was practically nothing they could do that would drive her away, because she _understood_. Understood _them_ , in a multitude of ways better than she understood herself. Just as they seemed to understand _her_ better than their own place in the Universe.

She felt Vogel's head being yanked away and Martin's mouth leaving her abruptly, only for the youngest Rowdy to be sucking and licking at her clit when his head was shoved down between her legs a moment later. Her fingers hectically pulled at Vogel's shirt, wanting to get at his skin as Martin loomed over them and pushed Gripps out of his way. The sound he made as he slid up against her face was utterly inhuman, his energy manic and bizarre. The kiss came so suddenly, so heavy, Cross had to hold her up as Vogel was squashed between their bodies. He was swallowing her up, eating her down, overwhelming her senses.

Amanda figured it wasn't exactly understanding either, really, it was choice. They had _chosen_ their place and it was with her. They'd been choosing it again and again ever since they showed up at her house and watched her drum. Amanda knew, no matter what it was she did to Finny, the decision to take that on, to twist herself anew, was her choosing them too. Not that they needed or even wanted her different, but she had wilfully changed. To be able to protect them she would burn the world. So would Martin.

His fingers slid over her ass and squeezed tightly before he pushed down and drove two fingers inside of her pussy roughly, and Amanda shuddered and bucked. Vogel's lips kissing and pulling at her core, Martin pressed in deep and felt around. He pumped and circled until he made her body shake, focused every rut and grind inside of her to make her pant and heave. Cross cupped and caressed her tits as Gripps kissed her so well she felt dizzy, and Martin's tongue edged over her throat.

She came fast, because they knew what they were doing, because they knew what they were after, because it had been two fucking months and no one had touched her. Her body arching and her voice choked, she shook out more tension than she knew she was carrying, and the flash of red was familiar, welcome, more food to eat. The sensation of her pleasure seeping out through her pores and into their open mouths was phenomenal, and in the daze she heard the unbuckling of a belt. The energy was shifting to something she knew; tight and wanton. It had Drummer making the most ludicrous protest, considering...

"Not in the mud, dude." She whispered, blearily.

"Okay." And everything was moving.

Gripps pulled her up onto his shoulder as her body was littered with kisses and pecks. Carrying her towards the Van, his fingers strayed from supporting her ass to stroking her soaking cunt. His tongue sliding up her thigh as she gripped the back of his shirt and watched shadows in the dark retrieve the hoody and the goddamn Wand, then follow so close she could hear them breathing.

Dropped back inside, over the edge, head poking out from the grate on the roof, Amanda saw Beast. All at once she remembered how _hungry_ she was, how hungry her friend must have been. Scooting back, Gripps followed her inside on his hands and knees. She met his lips, gentle and slow, his tongue ran low, and she felt her stomach gurgle whilst he certainly heard it. Smiling, he pressed fingers to her rumbling belly, and turned to the boys crowding around the door.

Amanda watched the silent communication pass between them, and in quick succession Martin banged on the roof of the Van and made for the driver's side. Cross lifted his arms and helped Beast down, holding her like a baby as he climbed into the passenger side of the front cabin with her. Vogel hopped in the back and pulled the sliding door shut, and Martin kicked the Van into life - pulled back out onto the highway. In the dark, Gripps' weight came down.

Big and heavy, warm and welcome, Drummer wrapped her arms around him as he went back to those gentle kisses. Slow and steady, their breath mingled as he settled between her legs and she wrapped them around his hips. Scratching into his beard, she took the time to note how thick it was, pulled off his beanie to run a hand over his head, knowing he'd want it shaving again. Her breath caught as he ground against her, stroked her shoulders, pushed fingers up into the roots of her own hair. Pulling gently, her neck arched and he abandoned her mouth to run a heavy tongue over her neck. Looking about them, she knew the boys were listening and _fuck_ , how she'd missed _that_.

Her hands slid down to pull at the edges of his shirt, rucking up to squeeze at his skin and pull him in closer. Hurriedly, with one hand he pulled the whole thing off, and his warm skin was so good against hers, her eyes rolled. It's not that she didn't know what she was doing, she knew where this would go. Reaching down for his belt, he helped her unhook it and pull it apart, his lips never leaving her skin. There was just this whiplash of feeling; in one moment her stomach would drop with guilt, and in another her relief, her need of, and desire for the Rowdy 3 would strike her utterly senseless.

"Why is it like this?" She whispered, shoving his pants down passed his ass and feeling the length of him rear and fall between them, against her tummy.

"I don't know, Drummer girl." He breathed back, kissing her harder than before, his fingers sliding inside her and his thumb circling her clit to keep her wet, "It's like there's never enough and too much of you, all at once." 

There were murmurs around them, and she added her own to the mix. Running heavy fingers down his sides, she pulled his hips in tight to hers and felt him gyrate against her with his hand still pumping her slowly - she sighed. Whether they consciously shared it or not, their want was something Amanda could feel as if it were cold water rolling down her spine. Fascinating to be the subject of such attention, the way it made them _care_ was evident. Gripps was ready to fuck her whilst the boys were simultaneously on the hunt for damnable human-food. The _power_ she had here was... if she asked right now for them to pull over the Van-

"You don't have to-" Gripps shuddered against her neck as she moved her hips against him more.

"Neither do you." She kissed at his forehead.

Then she felt his hand moving out, heard fidgeting over her head. Felt hands passing something between, and knew Vogel had given Gripps something. There was the click of plastic, a lid, and the sensation of cool liquid dripping onto her. She quivered at the feel of it, knew what it was, she was usually a few orgasms and even another dick deep before Gripps took her, never mind how long it had been. Bringing himself in line, he rubbed the head of his cock down along her cunt and it was slick with lube. Their breaths were shaky as he pushed his way inside, and the sound they _both_ made was guttural and desperately intimate. She couldn't see the face he made, but if it was anything like the astounded satisfaction on her own, she would have loved it.

Amanda scraped at the corrugated flooring of the Van as her lips spread to take him, and he made shallow thrusts to ease himself deeper and deeper. He was so _big_. Her body didn't know how to respond to him, beyond twitching and taking. Then, his forehead pressed hard against hers and she felt the unknowable sensation of a pussy squeezing a cock she didn't personally have, whilst simultaneously experiencing slowly, exquisitely being entered by one. He stroked her clit, and Drummer came so fast it was skull-splitting.

"Fuck." The air burst red as Gripps groaned, squeezing her ass tightly as he waited for the intense clutch and pull to subside.

He wasn't the only one announcing his pleasure, though. Amanda could hear the Rowdy 3 struggling to stay out of it, to keep their eyes on the road, to not kick away everything and crawl inside her too. The way they breathed, or failed to, the way fingers creaked against cheap leather, or feet scraped against metal floors. There was a current of it flowing, and Drummer's nails dug hard into Gripps' lower back, to pull him in tighter. She panted from the overwhelming tension in her body as he finally got deep enough to make her ache, and she wanted him fucking her proper. So he did.

The way he started was quick and easy, shallow, so that he could kiss her deeply, and swallow the sounds of her as her legs crept further up his sides, squeezing in hard. Taking the hint he pulled them up higher, pressed them against his shoulders as he dropped into her cunt harder, and Drummer's voice and body jerked as her head rolled back. It was deep, and it was sensational. She heard him licking his lips in the dark, before he did it again, and she shuddered so violently she nearly choked.

Grabbing her own tits, Amanda squeezed and circled, the stimulation heading straight down as Gripps kept fucking. Their breathing coming hard as they kissed and rocked. He reached round to her ass and pulled it up higher, and this time when he pumped, he ground in against her pussy. It hurt, and it didn't, her voice shaking as he did it again, and again, his head coming to rest on her sternum as he worked her to a climax harder than the first.

Pressing in fully he made her body shake as her pussy sucked, and he circled his hips inward until they came flush with hers. He hit the root of her, and the pressure was astonishing, aching and brilliant. Amanda cried out weakly, everything starting to spasm, from her eyelids to her toes with the pressure he made by giving it all to her. With uncontrollable jerks she spilled over into orgasm, she saw another flash of red, caught a glimpse of Gripps' enamoured face. Her whole body fell into static pleasure and she panted and groaned as her spine rippled.

Then he was pulling out and pushing her over onto her side. Amanda gasped and shuddered as he let one of her legs drop, but curled the other one up into her chest. His fingers pulled her chin round and his tongue slid into her mouth slow and sensual as he pushed back inside and she whimpered over him. She gripped her own leg desperately as he was back to fucking her fast and slick, his head dropping against her shoulder as he made his own set of obscene satisfied sounds. 

Every hit inside was wonderful as she just closed her eyes and let herself _feel_ it. In that hotel she hadn't let herself miss them, hadn't let herself consider how long it might be until she saw them, hugged them, kissed them. She hadn't let herself wallow. Amanda didn't know what she would feel when she had them again, but she didn't really think she would be as relieved as she was. No, that was a lie. It was just... everything still felt heavy, unfinished. She was still hungry, and frightened, but not of them; never of them. They recognised what she'd done, understood what she was becoming capable of and wanted her anyway. She'd missed _this_. Their want that came, always, without judgement; them being _with_ her regardless. 

Fingers slid through the short sides of her hair, long since grown out beyond anything that could be described as a shave. Felt small quick kisses over her cheek, her nose, her jaw. Turned her mouth to meet Vogel's hungrily as his touch slid round to take her chest. He always seemed to know exactly how to caress her there, like his hands were made for it, and she reached out to pull at his equally long-lost shave.

"Gobbo..." She breathed, and felt Gripps' head shift, to look at them in the dark with glowing eyes.

When Vogel's tongue pressed into her mouth, the beat being made in her pussy changed. Whining against teeth, Gripps' fuck was rough and mad. His hands on her stomach, he pulled her in harder and harder. The more Vogel kissed her, the more Gripps' got firmer with his moves, and Amanda couldn't stand it. Grabbing Vogel's arm, she shoved it down between her legs.

"Please."

His fingers found her quickly, like he'd memorised her, like he'd thought about her. Vogel circled and rubbed in hard as he nipped at her lips and danced with her tongue. Gripps bit at her shoulder as he shoved in to the base and she wailed, cumming again with mad spasms of limbs that made her feel blind, even in the dark. Every nerve in her sighed as those fingers twitched at the nub of nerves, and the cock inside her pulsed as she gripped it desperately. The Rowdy 3 breathed it in, consuming ever more energy. Rutting and squirming, the man inside her huffed and panted his satisfaction, until he was pulling out of her again and she whined at his lack of release.

Rolling her onto her back again, her legs came down on either side of his hips, and Gripps' hand slid up her stomach, over her tits, to her throat and into her mouth as Vogel shifted away. She licked at his tips as he rubbed his cock along her slit and she squirmed. His mouth came down against hers, his breath heavy, a little reedy, as those digits covered in her spit dipped back down.

"Can I fuck this?" He whispered against her cheek, as he circled her asshole with those wet fingers and pressed gently.

"I don't know, bud." She found herself laughing quietly, she'd never tried before, but she trusted him more than the others to do it slow, "Can you?"

Gripps smile was apparent, even in the dark, as he pecked her nose and pulled away, pushing her legs up and apart. Reaching a hand out to Vogel, Amanda pulled him up close as she heard that same snap of plastic. Felt the drip over her skin as digits circled and pushed, and a thumb played with her pussy. She shuddered under the sensation and grabbed her own thighs to keep them steady.

Vogel's hands found her chest again as she moved around to press her back against his lap. Gripps chased after the shift waiting until she was settled before sliding a single finger in. She carefully bucked and rolled her hips, adjusting as he took it slowly, pumping a few times before pressing deeper. Not entirely pleasant, it didn't hurt, but Gripps' mouth came down hot on her pussy because that _did_ feel good. He started sucking and licking as his thumb dipped in, and he fucked her with that finger until she was panting.

Vogel ran a nipple under his fingers lazily as she squirmed, nipped it tightly when Gripps slipped in a second finger. Amanda whined, because that time it was pleasant, that time it was lovely. Encouraged by the sound, Gripps went a little faster, a little firmer, and she found herself moving with the beat of it as her pussy twitched and pulsed with the ministrations of his mouth. He still took his time, kept it steady, made sure it felt so good that he was able to push in a third finger and all Drummer could do was groan. Pumping in deep, his tongue pressed hard against her clit, and she came. Quick and thudding, her legs shaking violently, and he moaned against her core with it spreading across his tongue. The Van lit up as they all took what she gave.

Sliding back up her body, chest heavy on top of her own, Gripps' ran his tongue roughly against hers, so she could taste it. His fingers kept working as she panted and heaved, Vogel's hand on her chest opening to take her whole breast and knead. Then she was empty, with glowing eyes staring into hers as the head of a cock pressed flush against her ass and pushed up, slowly. There was resistance, her body tensing, he was thick and hard and as her entrance gave her head fell back breathless. Eyes flitting closed, Gripps made the strangest strangled sound as he gave a shallow buck, and her whole body jolted, mirroring the motion.

His gaze was on her again, watching her face, as she nodded for him to keep going. Deeper he went, taking the time to thrust and grind and get her panting before going for more, before pushing it further. Amanda didn't have words, her mouth agape as she gasped over his face. He was looking for every twitch of pleasure, any hint of pain. If ever she showed discomfort, he would pull back, thrust up gently over and over, his fingers circling the lips of her pussy, encouraging her muscles to relax. He felt so much bigger, so much stiffer, she could count the beat of his pulse inside her and it made her head swim.

She kissed him desperately when she was ready for it; for him to start working her properly, for him to start fucking her like he meant it. His hands covered hers where she gripped at her thighs, and he didn't go fast or slow, but with a pace that was heavy and firm. It made her stomach tighten and her legs quiver. The heat of his heaving chest closed her in, pressed her down. The way he felt inside was incredible, sliding along nerves that seemed to vibrate like violin strings. Whenever his fingers drifted down, rolled over her clit, it was like hitting a new note, and she'd forget.. What? Who knows. She forgot. His nose slid along her cheek as his lips moved towards her ear, his breath loud and ragged. 

"Do you like it?" He gasped, not stopping, but still somehow waiting for an answer, which he got in the form of a dumbstruck emphatic nod, "I'm gonna make you cum then, yeah?"

Amanda whined as he ground in deep, his hips rubbing up rough against her skin, and she bucked into it automatically two or three times before he pulled out again. It didn't feel like when he was in her cunt, he wasn't hitting anything that ached with bliss, but those strings inside went taught and she felt thick with the pleasure of it. She bit at his lips as they came back round to her face, and she felt fingers stroking her pussy, pushing at her clit. His pace was faster, and he bottomed out with each thrust, his hands working even quicker than his cock, and it was all _excellent_.

She came with staggering convulsions. Gripps shuddering to an astounded halt above her. She watched him haul the pleasure out of her, but the darn stuff rolled on and on as he pressed his hips into it, her voice cracking as she lost all sense of feeling from her toes to her teeth. She couldn't feel her body, just absolute fucking bliss - static across every nerve that floated throughout her consciousness. It was all in her ass, it was all over her. At some point she gasped for air, because she'd forgotten to do the breathing, and then she was being fucked again and the whole thing just kept pulsing. One intense wave of it rolled into another as Gripps fucked her ragged, and he made his own pleasure known to illuminated air - but he still wasn't cumming.

Pulling out with a sudden shift, Amanda's whole body shook as he pushed Vogel's hands away to grab and lift her. Gripps span her over onto her front, in practically the same position he had last taken her in, straddling her legs from behind. He kissed the expanse of her skin now exposed to him, and she loved the feel of his tongue, his lips, his nose.

There was no bundle of clothes under her pelvis this time, so he held her up to his hips firmly instead. Supporting himself on one arm behind her, he slid back in so smooth and sharp Drummer yelped. Face buried against her own fists, she choked as he shagged her slow and rough. Bare feet scraping against the metal floor she felt blind-sided. How was he hitting her g-spot? He wasn't in her cunt, but he was hitting that bundle of brilliance, and her spine hiked up over and over just to prove it. 

Drummer's voice was something obscene, beyond her control, as he pulled her up to meet him whilst simultaneously shoving in over and over. It was a pace so cruelly, intentionally slow she could have cried. She was pulsing and pitching over into mindlessness as he huffed, heaved and licked at her shoulders.

The Van juddered over something, a curb, a cat-eye, something, and the whole thing had her yelling. She could feel the momentum changing, Martin pulling up, and to compensate, without thinking, Amanda shoved back herself. As the Van lurched so did Gripps, and he slammed in so deep her face hit the floor. He stayed there, unintentionally swirling hips as he looked around them, and the pressure was shattering right against that incredible spot. Drummer came, screaming silently against the cold floor, her whole body twitching and jittering as her butt pulsed and he quickly leaned back. She rocked forward off of him, collapsed onto her chest.

"Sorry." He whispered, shifting her dishevelled hair from her stupefied face.

Somewhere, distant and detached, Amanda heard the doors opening, felt the shake of people disembarking. Saw the side slide open and heard the murmured mention of a diner. The boys hovering by the door, waiting for her. There was a streetlight somewhere, casting them in shadow, but illuminating Gripps' lovely dark skin. She could see he was still hard, that he still hadn't finished, and his eyes followed hers with a hazy smile.

"It's okay, baby." He leaned over to grab her bag, and pulled out a dress and some underwear, "Like I've said before, it's just mechanics."

"I want you to..." She whispered, as he settled on his knees to look over her, biting his lip thoughtfully.

"Where do you want me to?" He asked, stroking her thigh with the back of his knuckles.

"Oh, right." She chuckled, the normality of being able to smile again was something she put to one side, "There are _options_."

He was still smiling as he nodded, watching her closely. She reached down for his fingers and drew them back towards her ass. She settled them there and squeezed, and he chortled before pulling her up into his lap, moving them towards the door.

"Excuse us boys," Gripps plopped her down at the edge and climbed out to stand as the Rowdy 3 backed up, "the lady wants me to finish."

Half-reluctantly, Martin patted Gripps on the shoulder as he took Vogel and pushed him away with a mutter; "Got a restaurant to break into anyway." 

Beast made after them, but Cross stayed by the door, leaning against the side as he pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

"It's a buck-fifty to watch." Amanda teased, but soon fell quiet as Gripps rolled her over onto her side and hiked her legs up perpendicular to her torso.

Her pussy was exposed, her thighs squeezing together in this position, and she watched him lick his fingers and circle his cock before stepping up to push it back in. Her eyes rolled as her ass spread to take him all over again, and his arm came to settle right in front of her. She gripped it tightly and dug her nails in. He kissed her forehead, her ear, her neck as he circled his hips slowly, figuring out what he wanted to do, where he wanted to be. Stirred up and stimulated, his other hand reached round to take hold of her tit, and she found herself twisting to give him better access. He started fucking in earnest.

The smell of smoke touched her nose and her eyes fell on Cross, the shape of him tilted in the dim light. He would watch her cum because he liked to, she remembered that. And that was good, because Gripps had found his angle. Rubbing along the nerves inside of her ass, he'd push in until he hit the g-spot in her pussy. The first time he did it, her eyes went wide and her hips tilted to follow the thrust, and something about the friction pleased him as well as her. So he did it again, and Amanda's head rolled back as she closed her eyes and panted. He shuddered too. Set a pace with it that was quick and loud, and it made the muscles she had around him squeeze and twitch.

It wasn't as quick as when he fucked to cum in her pussy though, and his head came down against her chest as she panted. He shook out a reedy breath, but lost the angle. So, Amanda pushed him back up. Indicated with a few swift nods that he could go faster than that, it didn't hurt, she didn't mind. Then he was going as fast and hard as he needed to inside her. He was barely pulling out, and the pressure was mind-boggling as she felt the throb of him growing. He was getting _harder_ , which seemed utterly impossible, but that's what it felt like. Stiff in her ass and pounding it heavy.

When she came again his approving groan as her body squeezed at him was beautiful, and he just kept fucking. Pushing it on, taking it further. At the angle he had her in, stimulating so much of her core, Drummer wailed when the pressure of her pleasure spread. Staring back at him in absolute astonishment, the orgasm hit her pussy too. It started squeezing and gripping over nothing and she cried out, overwhelmed by the combination. Amanda had never had an orgasm... or perhaps series of orgasms like it. Gripps' pace never let up, and neither did her pleasure, heaving and stammering for breath, her body sang for his cock. The two boys hauled out the red light from her cunt, and she watched Gripps shake his head and pulled at his arm.

"Cum..." She panted.

And the sensation of it spilling when he did... Her orgasm pulsed so hard reality went spotty. It was warm, and wet and so fucking intimate she felt more naked than actually _being_ naked. Buried deep inside her ass, her body couldn't let go of the pressure and she twitched and gripped and continued to cum until he slid out of her soft and spent. Her body could finally release, and she gasped and rolled onto her back, legs splayed out the open door. Shaking, and twitching, Gripps fell onto the lip of the Van beside her and joined the overwhelmedly-fucked club.

They were stuck catching their breath for some time, the sounds of glass shattering in the distance. Amanda could feel his cum dripping out of her and the dumb satisfaction that gave her was profound. She watched the shadow by the door moving, and Cross stepped up in front of her. Leaning over with his cigarette, he placed it in her mouth before reaching down to feel the mess between her legs. The sound he made as his fingers pressed into her was like a desperate dog, but as Gripps chucked her dress onto her chest she sat up and pecked her illustrated man's nose.

"Give me a minute, dude." She smiled, as he pulled away and she started to get dressed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been the longest month of our goddamn lives.  
> I hope y'all are doing okay.  
> Be safe.


	18. Chain of Fools (explicit)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vogel-Centric  
> Sliiight dub-con towards the end?  
> I dunno.

The woman that stared back was bizarre. The fluorescent lights casting her in strange shadows upon murky glass. Where once there were brown eyes, and only brown, dark like ebony, now a golden peeper pale and warm as syrup sat in a sallow socket. Sweat-curled hair mussed up around her ears, and that girl taking stock of the character before her had never seen such a messy attempt at a fucking mullet. Nor such thin cheeks, or tired features.

Pulling at the neckline of her dress the scar that sat there, because _yes_ it was a scar and not a gaping open wound (impossibly so), was surreal; a graphic piece of a new reality emblazoned across her chest. Ribs peaking out from pale sun-starved skin. The hands that touched these things were equally abstract, blackened with a burn reaching up into her palms... such strange shapes. Only magnified by the spiralling scar that snaked on up, palm to wrist, forearm to elbow, bicep to tit. What was the difference, Amanda wondered, in why there were scars from _that_ and not the last attack? Chucking the Wand, most likely.

Splashing that exhausted looking woman with lukewarm water, Drummer turned from the mirror and headed out of the bathroom as the sun began to rise. The sky was paling to a beautiful merry pink as she glanced through the mucky windows of another in a long line of grubby roadside diners - more familiar now than her own house would be, even though they had never set foot in this one before.

The door to the place was dangling off its hinges, the glass glistening like glitter on over-mopped tiles. The jukebox, kicked into life, played the most eclectic collection of old-school rock and roll, dated pop, timeless soul, and over-done country. Smiling, Amanda leant against the rainbow lights, busted and flickering on half-spent bulbs, and watched Vogel stomp and clap his way through someone's version of Black Betty.

Her eyes drifted, enjoying the sight of Martin behind the breakfast-bar serving overfilled glasses of coke from the soda tap he had not bothered to figure out how to turn off in-between cups. Crouched atop the same counter, Beast was swallowing down whole-ass burger patties, with nothing else on 'em, and Drummer felt her grin widening even as her stomach growled. Gripps and Cross were bickering behind the swinging kitchen door, their heads bobbing about through the serving-hatch, vehemently disagreeing about the best way to grill a piece of meat, how long to scorch a bit of bacon, the _only_ way to serve an egg. It all sounded _very_ technical (it all sounded like bullshit with a side excuse of ribbing each other). They, evidently, were cooking the burger patties.

 _Another yoyo_ ; Amanda thought, jerking away from the jukebox as it fizzed, crackled, clicked over onto a new bit of vinyl. Chain of Fools. Drummer grinned, span and shuffled, made gimme-gimme fingers at her Gobbo so's he would skid up to meet her. They had danced together often, big, barmy and stupid to loud banging metal, hectic electro, and rowdy folk. Vogel could spin her faster than was safe, but was certainly a good deal more fun, and he had Amanda twisting along the tiles with disoriented giggles and woops in a blink. Smacking into his chest, she remembered their first few weeks, and then their subsequent isolated months, followed by what was left of the year of being silly with him, and was filled with nostalgic cheer.

Arms coming up over his shoulders, Vogel took her sides and their boots clicked and scraped to the beat in their journey around the diner. Noses bumping, they chortled and shimmied, hardly noticing how close their bodies had come as she made a poor attempt to sing along. With a dreamy smile, Vogel's head drifted into the nape of her neck, pressing in warm and sweaty. His fingers sliding down, Drummer pressed her hips into his with the sway, leading their feet. Her hands worked through his hair affectionately as they danced, their bodies so tight they were almost a single being, a new entity before the dawn. His breath burned over her skin, his lips pressing wet and pointed against her collar bone. Grinning, she squirmed as he squeezed her ass, and traced the shape of her through her dress. A serving bell dinged.

"Hey!" Cross called through the hatch, "That's _my_ order, short stuff!"

The laugh that rippled through Amanda felt foreign and undeserved, but so, _so_ welcome. Vogel's mouth following the ripple of joy up her throat and over her chin was even more so. He chased her lips giddily as Cross' protesting jingles persisted, and Drummer dropped her fingers down to belt loops and pulled hips up hard against her own. Then, somehow, Vogel was leading, his hands heavy as they worked their way up her back, brought her chest flush with his own, still after that kiss with a jittery smile. Their feet shifting to the beat, he edged her back, and back, and back. The edge of a booth-table pushing against her ass until she was tilting and tilting, with her own shit-eating-grin. Vogel tickled her.

Screeching, she smacked and squirmed and squealed, hiccupping hysterically as he pinned her down and ultimately got what he was after. A kiss. A heated, hectic and hungry thing. The playfulness fell away the more he pressed, until she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and let herself be lead back up - back to standing. She spread her legs. He stepped in, firm against her crotch. His eyes roaming her face with no thought behind them but _want_. Drunk kids at a party they were not, but damn it sure felt like it, smiling a touch more nervously at each other.

Vogel had said something important back at the hotel; something big, something loud, but also something quiet, something they never got the chance to acknowledge. It was a heavy thing, one that sat between them as his fingers played with the fabric of her dress, as he looked into her eyes, stared at her lips, studied her features like they were miraculous works of art. Was it at all surprising? He was the bravest of all of them, willing to risk, to make himself vulnerable, to trust he would be caught. It was his sweetest strength.

So, Amanda felt the weight of the fact she hadn't said anything back. At the time she couldn't, he was taken away, but there was no excuse now; she just couldn't find words big enough, bright enough, bold enough to do their measure. The ache she felt for all of them was like awe, but for him? For Vogel in particular? It was all-encompassing compassion, joy, affection, he had been her world for a while... He smiled more surely as her heart cycled through those thoughts, catching the echo. Fingers walking down to the hem of her dress, she hiked up her skirt, pulled is hand up against her inner thigh, inviting him to feel more.

Sighing with delight, he pushed aside her underwear and palmed her warmth gently. Rubbing against the lips of her pussy like she was indeed a cat, she kissed at his bottom lip to encourage him. Behind him, Cross' faux-offended protests grew quiet as he leaned into the hatch to watch them instead. Quiet, concentrated, about as focused as she'd ever known him, Vogel pressed up between her legs and spread her thighs, sharing breaths with her kissing mouth. When he circled her clit with three warm fingers, her pleasured exhale was met with his own encouraging moan. Forehead against hers, he shared how much he'd missed her pleasure. Quick, concise, gone in an instant, when he began to kiss her properly. His other hand tight against her neck, running into the roots of her hair, he didn't want even an inch between them.

Tongue's stroking over hungry breaths, Drummer pushed Vogel's jacket from his shoulders, and heard it hit the floor. His fingers at her core were heavy and slow as he pressed his body in over her, making her lean, his other hand taking a firm hold of the edge of the table. It creaked as his jeans rubbed in against her open thighs. He worked his way down and pressed fingers in, so very slowly, and Amanda shuddered, gripped his hair with slack jaw. The small pleasured squeak she made was echoed with his own.

The question of _why_ came up again. Why was it like this? The loss of sense and time. The world melting away, until the pain and guilt and uneasiness of only hours ago became nothing but echoes. There was just skin, and warmth and the weirdness of the family they had created. The intimacy of their shared experience. Gripps had said 'it closes in', and it certainly did, making parts of reality a distant nightmare; something you could walk away from. Nothing was normal, nothing ever could be, the hurt and horror still lingered, but the bubble of peace they always found with each other was undeniable. They needed this _because_ it was nothing like they had ever known. Kindness and desire, acceptance and curiosity. No abandonment or imprisonment, and absolutely no room for guilt.

"What do you need, Boss?" Vogel whispered against her closed eyes, before his lips, his tongue, his teeth, were working their way down her chest, pushing aside her dress, meeting her tits with wanton delight.

Was it a big question or a little one? Did he want thought? He was going slow, slower than she'd ever known him to as he started to pump her pussy with a palm hard against her clit. His face was tense, but pleased, his arousal apparent in the way he breathed, the way he moved, the way he looked at her. He was holding back because he wanted this to mean something, like the last time it was just them... when it had been a comfort and release from his own trauma. Was he trying to offer her the same thing?

Stroking his ear she smiled, though he didn't see it, "Just you, bud. That's all I need, right now."

As he took a nipple between his teeth, her hands came quickly to the front of his pants and unbuttoned them. Pushed them down over his ass so she could pull his dick out and squeeze it. His whole body rippled at the feel of her hand, and he abandoned her chest to reclaim her mouth. She matched his slow insistent pace as he chased her teeth with his tongue, tightening her grip as she pumped until she felt his arm start to shake where it pressed between their stomachs. He made small ecstatic sounds, his whole body starting to vibrate, but he kept control of that slow, sensual hand.

"Are you close?" Amanda gasped against his lips, "Can I feel it?"

Nodding, he pressed his forehead to hers and she shook, whole body, at the wave of sheer bliss emanating from her crotch, mixed with the intense emotional gratification of who was causing it - someone he loved. Amanda's body, as it seemed to when any of them shared their bliss, didn't quite know what to do with the mixed sensation of multi-gendered pleasure. So, it just threw an orgasm at her that made her back arch and her torso roll back, until she was almost lying flat. Pussy quivering and clutching as her hips bucked. Her hand gripping Vogel stilled, as he ate the whole thing down. His touch left her, so's he could take hold of the table on both sides, rubbing the head of his cock against her clit as he watched her pant and shake. Biting his lip, he carefully pulled her hand away from his skin, bringing himself back from the brink of his own orgasm. He slid his dick down the length of her slit, the warmth of him maddening as Amanda twitched and ached for him to be inside her.

Drummer wrapped her arms around his neck again when she was ready, pulling herself back up to standing. His cock pressed between her lips, on the verge of entrance, his hand holding him there, ready. She lifted a leg to his hip, and he took it, pulled it up higher, settling it somewhere where it wouldn't slip, before reaffirming his grip on the table beside her ass. As he kissed her, his dick slid inside, sweet and smooth, his pelvis grinding against her clit when he was fully sheathed. He stretched her out so lovely, her hands kneaded his ass as her mouth played with his tongue. She could feel his fingers exploring her pussy, brushing along the edges where their flesh met, his eyes on hers as he memorised the feel of his own cock spreading skin.

Slow. He was taking it slow. Even though his whole body shook to go faster, to do more, to get spent, Vogel wanted to please her. His cock sliding in and out so firmly, so sensually she could almost count the veins on his dick. He had thought about this, about how he'd wanted to do this. Maybe the table wasn't there, maybe the diner hadn't factored in, but the way he was touching her, careful and heavy... He'd thought about it a lot. As he pulled her ass in tight, and pressed her hard against the lip of the table, she whined at his efforts. Ground against his pelvis. Felt her pussy twitch.

"Faster." She pleaded, wanting to chase that sensation right down to where it would inevitably lead them.

Nodding, Vogel pushed her legs further apart with his hips, and upped his tempo. Slow still by his measure, but the change in rapidity of friction had Amanda's head rolling back as he tongued at her throat and felt her enamoured moan. The pressure was building, and for the first time with him, she was sure she would cum without the help of fingers. Hooking into his belt loops, she directed his ass right, got him to hit just so against her clit with his crotch. Felt her spine ripple and started tilting back, pushing her pelvis forward into it.

"There?" He gasped, his hand becoming a fist behind her, holding her hips in place, keeping her still as he rutted, and she nodded mindlessly.

The beat went up more surely, Amanda hitching and whining with need as he fucked her wonderfully. She squeezed his skin as their mouths fell apart, messy and breathless. Her pussy was starting to sing. Sometimes when he pressed in he had to squirm and shudder, lost in his own enjoyment, but when she was finally tipping over, when she actually came, he kept on fucking into her tight taut body. Her back slamming against the table as her legs gave out and he pulled them both up around his waist and persisted with his pumping. Pulling at her own hair, the sound she made was obscene as her body flooded with mind-numbing bliss. Vogel's hands came down on the table around her, his body shuddering at the feel of her squeezing and pulling. The glow of her energy seeped up into his mouth as his pace slowed once more, and her orgasm ebbed away.

She stroked at his temple as he squirmed in to the hip and sat there for a while, her legs jerking reflexively as he did so. Smiling at him, she watched him kiss her palm, rolling his hips as she closed her eyes. Vogel's attention shifted away from her as bodies shuffled into the booth around them. Opening her eyes, Cross' face whipped in to peck her nose before waving a neatly wrapped packet at her. Sitting with his hands on the backrest, she heard his feet shuffling under the table and knew he had stretched out, plopping the packet beside himself on the seat.

"Gripps said you'd like bacon and egg-" Cross started.

"Gripps is right!" The man in question finished as he tossed a cooked burger through the hatch and Beast caught it with bare fingers; chucking it around until it was cool enough to dig teeth into.

Grinning, on Amanda's other side she felt fingers stroke up her raised calf, down her thigh, over her ribs. Turning she saw Martin settling in, feet on the bench, cigarette between his lips as he winked. He smacked Vogel's cheek gently with the back of his fingers, then sat back to blow smoke. Amanda could feel Vogel fidget, still hard inside her and pulsing. With all their eyes following her, she reached out to grip around the bottom of the table, and pulled herself down, hard but slow. Eliciting a surprised moan from the man still buried in her cunt. His hand shot to her hips as she rolled them, hitched up. Gave a satisfied sigh when he bucked involuntarily. His eyes shot to Martin and Cross watching him closely, tracing his body as he moved with Amanda.

Vogel pulled her dress down, because it had ridden back up, and forced the neckline to catch under her tits - pushing them up. He ran a hectic hand over them, squeezing and stroking before pulling his own shirt up and off. His eyes flitted to Cross, who was chewing his own lip, and Vogel's hips started to work again. With Amanda's approving hicks and gasps, but his divided attention, it became clear he didn't quite know what to do with the audience he now had. He was getting into his own head. So, Drummer came up and dragged her tongue over his chest, took a nipple between her teeth, sucked and kissed until he was rewarding her with better thrust, running heavy fingers against her scalp, pulling her head back to claim her lips.

"Focus on me, bud." She whispered into his mouth, "Ignore these boneheads."

Someone pinched her, and she jolted as they both giggled. The feel of their mirth shaking through them, narrowing everything down to their sex as she held the table tightly. He fucked her. Her body more sensitive to the way he smacked against her hips because she was holding herself so firmly against his pressing thighs. One of his hands came down beside her head, whilst the other kneaded her tit so hard it could bruise. She kissed at his wrist, squeezing her thighs against his sides. He felt wonderful, he felt warm and willing. Amanda closed her eyes and let herself enjoy it as he got faster and faster, the condiments on the table shaking off onto the floor because Cross and Martin let them. Her pussy flittered and thanked him for the friction as her head rolled back and his tongue ran up her skin.

When Vogel knew he was getting close he pushed Amanda's legs, opened them wide, and she moaned as he edged in just that bit further. As he roughly stroked her inner thighs, more fingers than he had crawled up behind her knees, and looked down to see Martin and Cross helping him - felt her muscles stretch as they pulled her wider. Vogel's rutting now meant she could feel her pussy reverberate. He was going maddeningly quick, and her body bounced with his slick lovely dick.

Licking her lips, she squirmed as he pinched her nipple. Then with his other hand he grabbed for her shoulder, so that when he thrust up he also shoved down, and Amanda yelped at the heavy thud of hips. It made her shake from her pussy to her tits. He did it again and again, it was the hardest he'd ever fucked her. It was _fantastic_ , and she could feel herself tipping, her pussy hitting a pitch so high she could taste it. She came, and he did. The air bursting red as he spilled inside of her and her back arched, her throat rattled and her pussy clamped down around the shape of him.

Vogel's face as he consumed her pleasure was stupefied, grinding his hips and riding out his own climax pushed all the way in. The hand on her shoulder slid up over her neck, his thumb brushing her lips as she dazedly kissed at it. Chest heaving, she felt him pulling out. Shuddered as she felt his hands sliding down over her body, spreading over her thighs warm and heavy. Blinking, she could feel him pushing down, keeping them spread and didn't understand... Until she felt fingers fast and cruel diving for her clit and she balked. 

Her body rocking up violently, she let go of the table and grabbed straight for Martin's god-forsaken arm. She yanked it back with an overstimulated whine, and those slick fingers came up to grab her chin. He dragged her towards him, and kissed her roughly, teeth cracking as he reminded her all of a sudden of her very split lip. Vogel forced her legs to stay open, and she screeched with sensation as another hand dove in for her pussy instead. Trying to smack Cross away this time, Martin had her twisted and easily caught her arm. She was writhing and squealing as heavy unforgiving fingers worked at her pussy like a disk-jockey atop the table. Her body shook and contorted as she hissed against Martin's tongue, struggled against restraining hands. She could feel her pussy clenching already, absolutely unprepared for so much attention so quickly. She was astounded, gasping into an open mouth.

"Want us to stop?" Martin asked as her head lolled and her eyes rolled.

"Fuck off!" She muttered, then groaned loudly as her pussy burst with bliss and she could feel Vogel's cum rolling out of her with every muscle clench; dripping onto the floor.

All three of them ate it, as Cross kept pressing and leaned over to watch, dragging more out of her as he did. Vogel whined at the sight. Her hips bucked uncontrollably as she was driven through the orgasm utterly by surprise. Outside of her control. Now, Amanda knew Cross liked her messy, so it was actually Vogel's fascinated approval that had her rolling her hips - hoping it all pleased him. Everything pulsed and moved, and she felt very much on display. Her legs spread wide as they watched her pussy do what it wanted to. Until Cross let up, patting her lips and pulling away.

Heaving in the sunlight, Amanda's forehead was pressed against Martin's lips as she grumbled; "Do I need a goddamn safe-word, Martin, is that what you're telling me?"

"S'pose you do?" He chuckled, because he knew she wasn't mad, not exactly, but she didn't know how she felt about her lack of control just then.

"Mhmm." She nodded, after all, it wasn't like she didn't trust them; she quickly decided better to have it and not need it, than need it and not have it "It's 'prick', alright? You're a prick."

"Alright." He breathed, getting up and pulling her with him...


	19. You Kissed Your Fear Instead of Me (explicit)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cross + Martin Centric

The hair on Martin's arm was coarse. It shifted under her fingers when he moved out of the booth. His grip tightened on her elbow as he pushed Vogel back, giving him a reassuring but oddly detached pat on the neck. Legs shivering shut Amanda let herself find her feet again. With a smile, Vogel's body brushed passed her, and he hopped up onto the table as she was moved away from it. Pulling his shirt back on, he took the sandwich from Cross and sat back to watch, tucking himself away.

As her dress fell down, and Amanda fidgeted her underwear back into position, she went to pull her neckline up, but Martin moved in to kiss her exposed breasts and her hands hesitated mid-air. Her limbs still like jelly, he stumblingly lead her away from the booth. Hands pulling her to him roughly, his tongue and teeth were being far from gentle. She'd hardly had chance to breathe...

Knees almost giving out, he brought her up tight to his hips, as a chest pressed in against Amanda's back and she let her head flop back onto Cross' shoulder. His tongue was running up the edge of her ear, and his breath was heavy in her head. She was utterly discombobulated already. Frustrated, she tried to pull Martin's head round, to meet his eyes, but he wasn't looking at her. Instead, he pulled a leg up against his hip, so's her torso _had_ to lean back to compensate; straight into Cross' ready frame. A hand drew up the back of her thigh and over her ass, another down her stomach and against her snatch, a third was kneading the tit Martin's mouth wasn't sucking.

Sun shone bright in her eyes. And she felt disconnected from her body; How long had they been here? When was this place supposed to open? Two different sets of fingers slid down over her still-ripe pussy, one from in front and one from behind, and she jerked away. Not ready, not connecting. They crowded her front instead, as she fell onto a stool at the breakfast bar. Cross kissed her as he groped her chest, and Martin pulled up her skirt to push into her underwear, his teeth on her neck. She hadn't seen his eyes once, but whined as calloused fingers slid over her pussy, and she looked out of the many, many windows. It felt overly exposed all of a sudden, like anyone could walk by and see her pubes. She grabbed the arm doing its dirty work and bit it.

"Not here, _prick_." Immediately everything stopped moving, though neither man stepped away, "There's not enough time for _both_ of you- either of you."

"Then _where_?" Martin's voice was low, grating as Cross _had_ to push his ringed hand away from her cunt, "I gotta fuck you, Drummer girl, and soon."

She gulped, because that was some intensely uncomfortable and insistent energy coming from him. It felt almost violent, as Cross pushed him away gently. It was an attitude that had been there earlier, out in the dark, manic and bizarre. In the daylight it was almost visible. Amanda pulled her dress back up over her chest. Martin's eyes never met hers, only flicking to Cross' when he pulled their foreheads together, sharing. Shuddering, Martin offered something back, and in the way Cross recoiled, it seemed rough. Amanda felt her stomach drop, but whatever it was made Cross smile, only weakly, and wrap his arm around Martin's shoulder.

"There's a trailer park out back," He offered as Martin tucked his head into the nape of Cross' neck, kissed at his skin - suddenly tired, defused, "maybe one's empty, yeah man?" 

Amanda's eyebrows scrunched together; "That's not fair." The pair looked at her perplexed, but she'd just spent two months dancing around a psychopath, so she wasn't in the mood for more fuckery, "I have no idea what just happened here. You shared with him, but not with me. Surely I should be informed. Something's _clearly_ going on."

"I'm just tired, Drummer." Martin's head dipped as he pulled off his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"Bullshit." She snapped, "This isn't some fucking unhealthy het-relationship with little white lies to keep the peace. This is the Rowdy 3, and I can't feel it if you don't tell me, so you _tell me_."

Martin plopped down in the stool next to her as Gripps emerged from the kitchen, and Cross responded; "He's not lying."

"Well he can sure as hell _elaborate_ , bud." Drummer span to face the man in question who buried his head in his arm on top of the counter, "Cos 'tired' ain't cutting it for this bitch. Not if I'm going to let whatever fucking fury _that_ was anywhere near my switch."

Martin chortled, rolling his head to look at her, actually look at her. He _did_ look tired as he pulled his collar down to scratch at his neck, and she saw the words 'IN CONTROL' etched there. She'd seen them before, but not lately (obviously); he didn't typically have them on display. Amanda had always thought that might have been because _he_ didn't put them there. Reaching out, she stroked the words.

"Not felt that way of late." He muttered, taking her fingers and bringing them to his lips to kiss them, "Only ever felt this useless in one place."

Cross nodded, crouching between them, an arm in each's lap, pulling Martin's attention as he spoke, "But she ain't _me_ , man."

"What do you mean?" Drummer asked, stroking Cross' hair, feeling once again as though she were skirting along the edges of their damage.

"She can only see the energy, not the shit behind it, yeah?" He was speaking directly to Martin, "And the energy is _fucked_ if you don't _get_ it."

Amanda was still at a loss, before Cross ripped his eyes from one Rowdy to bring them to the other.

"It's so _easy_ to hurt. To _be_ hurt." Martin started before his friend could, leaning back on his stool, counting the ceiling tiles as he spoke, "Nobody ever told us we deserved more. So, you wake up every day to get the shit beaten out of you and think that's how life's supposed to go... for everybody." Amanda's hand came up to her throat, because she felt a lump rising there, "Drummer, if you'd seen how _little_ Vogel was..." Martin muttered, "First time I ever realised it _was all fucked_. Living like that, expecting a fist, a taze, a gun-"

"I don't- Did you used to hurt _each other,_ Martin?" She was trying to connect the apparently appalling dots to the frankly frightening attitude he had had a moment ago, "Is this you saying you were gonna hurt _me_?"

"I wouldn't have let him." Cross stated firmly, offering zero comfort, which he seemed to realise as he turned his frustrated gaze on Martin; "You see what I mean, man? That energy is _fucked_. You can't bring it to people who ain't ready for it."

Martin nodded turning to face them both, "That hotel is the closest we've been to _deep_ in that shit since-"

"I understand that." Because she did; from what they had said, they'd been kept unconscious for most of their second stint in Blackwing, but not for the first, "If that hotel was anything close to what it was like for you boys growing up... I- I am so fucking- shit, to hell with Finny, yeah? But I'm not your hate bucket, dude! You don't get to fuck your trauma into me like that. I'm not some anonymous pussy you walk away from and never have to deal with again. Like, how did you think it was going to go?"

"You cumming." He smirked, "A lot."

"You couldn't even look at me, Martin." She leaned into him angrily, " _I_ wasn't there." That seemed to pull him up short as Cross grinned proudly at her, and patted her knee, she took those fingers and squeezed them, "Maybe for you this shit is sometimes just about the cumming, but it's never been that way for me! Like, touching other people, the amount of _trust_ I have to... do you even comprehend? The fact you boys have had to learn you deserve better sex than that is... But, look, I already _know_ I do."

Martin blinked at her, then down at Cross, then back at her, "I'm sorry."

"You owe him one too, then, for all the times you've fucked him without looking him in the eye." She pointed at Cross sharply, "And yourself, for ever thinking a hole was better than taking care of your damage."

"I fucking love you, man." Cross laughed to himself down on the floor, and she grabbed his elbow and pulled him up.

"Mhmm." She nodded, licking her lips as she stood beside him, not exactly angry at Martin, but feeling some kind of way, "Now where's this damned empty trailer?"

"I mean..." Cross shrugged, tucking her under his arm as he kissed her forehead fondly, "there might not be one."

"Oh, there'd better be." She huffed, leading him towards the door as Vogel tossed her the sandwich which she opened up and ate.

* * *

There was one. Right towards the back, nowhere near the diner. It stood apart from the other trailers in the park only because there were no signs of ownership, no deck chairs and BBQs, no plant pots or miniature windmills. Amanda picked the lock with a rusty bit of wire she found in the muck, and let the Rowdy 3 inside like a perturbed mother gathering up her children. She clambered in behind them and slammed the door, it was stuffy and dark, all the curtains were drawn. Vogel shoved open concertina-doors, hopping in and out of tiny rooms merrily; Gripps chucked himself into the nearest bench in a very compact living-come-dining area and Beast curled in beside him, finally fed and ready for sleep. He placed an arm over her and closed his eyes as well; _'tired guy' indeed_.

Amanda followed Cross and Martin to the back, where a cramped little bedroom with nothing but a double bed and overhead storage had been fitted. Leaning against the wall and crossing her arms, Cross pressed his shoulder into hers as he joined her, and they watched Martin sit on the edge of the bed. Pulling off his glasses, he placed them on the tiny window ledge and fell back onto the mattress. A puff of dust rose from the old-ass comforter and he coughed, but decided it wasn't worth moving out of.

"Does anything else need saying?" Drummer asked, looking down on Martin before turning to Cross.

Her illustrated man stuck out his bottom lip and shook his head; "Not today, I don't think."

"Good." She reached up for his collar and pulled that lip down to suck it.

Cross stumbled round, chasing her kiss enthusiastically as she ran fingers roughly through his hair, pushing it away from his face. His beard was a mess, and she scratched at it affectionately as he pulled her tightly to his torso and just let himself sink. She lead the way, her tongue sliding against his as he made approving little noises. Pulling at his hoody, he took it off, and the t-shirt underneath it, coming back to her lips with a smile that was terribly genuine. Stroking her knuckles over his torso, Amanda adored his warm skin, ran deep grooves over his shoulder blades as he shuddered against her chest. Then he was spinning her to face away from him, pushing her hair aside to kiss wetly over her shoulders, drag teeth up her neck. She pressed back into his chest, and felt him stop short against the wall.

On the bed Martin was up on his elbows, watching them. Drummer scoffed, because he looked like a kid in time-out; only able to observe the fun but never join in. She rolled her eyes and held out a hand to him as Cross' spread over her stomach. The delinquent approached, stepping into her space slowly as she tilted to look up at him. Her breath caught as Cross nipped at her ear and ran his fingers along the tender skin below her breasts. Martin silently, with a skewed apologetic look, asked for permission to touch her. Nodding she ran a hand up his jacket and pulled apart buttons. Carefully he cupped her face, and she thought it sweet that he was over-compensating.

His kiss was slow, and long, and breathy, body coming in heavy over hers as his nose pushed against her cheek. Back shoved up into Cross, illustrated fingers slid down to the bare skin on her thighs, and looped in under her dress. He rubbed her pussy through her underwear, and her legs squirmed. Gasping into Martin's mouth, she pushed his jacket off onto the floor and started working on his other damnable layers. She chuckled against his lips before he pulled her up onto her tiptoes by the ass, bringing them chest to chest. He pulled away from kissing her then, just to look at her heavy lidded newly-mis-matched eyes. Cross' fingers edged along the hem of her panties slowly, teasing; actually waiting for Martin.

"Thank you, Drummer girl," He breathed over her flushed face as her eyebrows knitted with an obvious follow up question, "for trusting me. I'll do better."

She'd gotten his waistcoat open, and was working it off as she smiled through her reply, right against his kiss; "Yeah, well, that's what you get when someone cares about you on purpose."

Cross giggled as he pecked her shoulder blade; "Them's some of those feelings you were catching way back when, man?"

"Y'know? I think so!" She grinned, pulling his hips in against her ass much to his approval as Martin actually started unbuttoning his own shirt.

Bringing both hands up behind herself, she caressed Cross' sides, and just watched Martin divest himself of clothes; his shirt, his vest, his boots. His body was lithe, and thick, and always so much more imposing when he wasn't covering it in layers upon layers of black. When he reached up for his belt buckle Amanda reached out to help him with it, pulling him in close again. She wanted the warmth of his breath, the claustrophobic closeness of body heat. Stepping forward just to let Cross get out of his own stuff, she pressed back into his naked body soon after, working Martin's pants and underwear down. Their flesh under her fingers was as precious as silk. They moved in so tight and balmy, and she kissed at Martin's pectorals, pulled at Cross' hair as he lapped at her throat.

Drummer could feel their arousal through the fabric of her dress as their hands seemed to be everywhere. There was practically no space to move, and yet nothing was still. Hips ground and legs shuffled, arms shifted and lips spread hot wet marks over any free bit of skin. Cross started pulling her dress up, but Martin finished getting it over her head. Their flesh so intensely _good_ against her own, their kisses long and languid as they moved her between them like she was liquid. Scraping hands over their chests, down their stomachs, around their cocks, she squeezed and pumped and they both shuddered and lurched in so tight it was like drowning.

Martin's fingers dug into her tits, kneaded them harsh as he ducked in to bite them, lick them, breathe heavy beats of lust over her heart. Cross' slid back round and under the lip of her underwear, stroked over her pubes as she spread her legs in ascent. He moaned at the behaviour, his body coiling in a little against her back as he shoved her panties completely down in one hectic motion that made them all stumble. In retaliation, Martin shoved them both hard against the wall and Amanda could feel a cock against her ass, another on her stomach. Her hands still grasping, stroking, Martin pressed his palms against the cheap fake wood on either side of their heads. Staring at his mouth, she watched him bare his teeth, lick is lips, and pumped him harder.

"Finger her." He instructed, shooting a look to Cross that made her bounce on her heels.

After a quick lick, those fingers did as they were told. Hands dipped low, with one he spread her pussy and with the other he circled her clit. Her grip snapped to his side as her hips hitched up against his dick and she gasped into Martin's open mouth. Cross ground his length down between her ass-cheeks, as he bit at her shoulder, and it all made her squirm. Martin just watched, head tilting to chase every roll and dip of her own.

Cross played with her until he could slip his fingers in and feel her juices flow, and she felt him nodding by her ear. Martin reached for her cunt then, as Cross' digits slid round and down again, behind her this time. They pushed into her pussy together, two different hands dipping between lips, slow and spreading. They stroked and curved, explored her with heavy breaths, both their eyes closed as she whimpered and bucked. Then they were pumping together steady and rhythmic. Utterly besotted by the sensation, Amanda let go of Martin's dick to pull him in at the waist, panting into his kiss. Her hips pressed down against both their hands as she squeezed her own tits.

"Faster." She whispered, and the sound she made as their beat in her cunt escalated was something indescribable, "Harder."

They pulled her back and forth, making so much damn friction she couldn't think. Martin's calloused thumb came round to press hard into her clit as Cross went from two fingers to four. They worked her for an age, for as long as they needed to get her good and soaking. They fingered her well. Until Amanda came, her hands pulling them both down by the neck. Their mouths wide and wanton as they kissed up her face and down over her neck. She shuddered and bleated her astonishment as they pressed and pressed, grinding their own throbbing want against her body. The air swelled with red and she could feel them tasting the bliss from her.

They withdrew, a trio of panting animals in a dark corner. Martin stroked the throbbing, twitching root of her as Cross brought his fingers to his lips and licked them clean. He pulled Amanda's mouth to his, to share the taste of the cunt he liked so much, and she could feel Martin pulling Cross' cock forward and rubbing it along her slit. Cross' breath shook as it entered her mouth, and she felt his whole body ripple because Martin caressed him; caught between rough hands and a warm slick pussy. The moans they _both m_ ade as Martin guided Cross up into her were absolutely obscene - the stretch, the warmth, the pulse of it. They both buckled and writhed as Martin held them together, his palm rolling over her clit as he kept Cross sheathed. With his other hand, he lifted Drummer's leg, opening her thighs. He brought it up as high as his chest before nodding.

"Fuck her." He demanded, and with an overwhelmed sort of cry Cross obliged.

Amanda's back arched, her tits rubbing against Martin's solid chest as Cross fucked up into her fast and firm. Martin's face never strayed far from theirs, as he pushed them together and enjoyed both of their panting pleasures. He gave Cross Amanda's raised leg before licking his digits. With one hand he circled Drummer's clit, then with the other he carefully caressed Cross' scrotum. The pair shuddered and twitched, whined their delight as he played them together like they were his finest of instruments. The cock inside Amanda was wonderfully long, every thrust and roll a light in her pussy. Every hit of his hips had her squirming, which seemed to be Martin's intent.

If they ever lurched forward, losing their balance, they would be pushed back against the wall by Martin's body. He kept them tight and tethered as their hands reached for him together; his arms, his ass, his chest, his dick. They wanted him. So, he upped the pressure. His business getting heavy as he squeezed Cross harder, pressed in on Drummer's clit so heavily the leg she stood on gave out. The drop had Cross' dick shove up so high that she came with a broken little yelp. Everything clamping down around that pulsing rod so suddenly Cross shouted and coiled over. Martin swallowed it up, but Cross pulled out sharply.

Gasping and swearing, he wrapped his arm desperately around a shivering, twitching Amanda; "Fuck, I nearly came, man!"

Martin smirked, stepping away to retrieve his jacket as Drummer blearily asked; "Isn't that the point?"

She dazedly watched as a small bottle was pulled from Martin's jacket pocket. Stepping back into their space, he snapped the lid and poured some of the contents into his hand. Amanda's hips rolled wantonly into Martin's palm as he rubbed whatever it was onto her cunt, still open, on display with her thigh gripped tight and high in Cross' other hand. He poured out more before reaching between her legs, and Cross choked as his cock got coated in the stuff too.

"Why do you just _have_ that?" Amanda asked, realising quickly, from the feel of that cock now slick against her skin, that it was lube.

"Has a million and one uses." Martin winked, dribbling some over himself too before dropping the bottle to the floor at his feet, "Wanna try a few?"

Without much fanfare, he fucked up into Amanda - hard. Her back slapping against Cross' chest as her hands flew up hectically and she wailed. Cross hurriedly hooked his arms under her pits, clasped his fingers behind her neck, so's all she could do was grab his hair and get rawed. Which she did. Loudly. Over and over, flesh to flesh, hip to hip, their skin smacking. That crooked cock doing the work of a piston with irrational abandon. Martin's fingers dug deep into her ass, ramming into her over and over as he took over holding her leg up once more. He was looking right at her; his eyes never leaving hers as her whole body rocked. Blissfully roughly, he absolutely fucked her.

Pushing in to the hilt, Martin circled his hips, rolled his dick inside, and Amanda's whole body rippled - the breath tumbling out of her incoherently. He did it over and over until her pussy was singing, the muscles inside pulsing for their release. Using the hand on her ass to tilt her hips forward, Martin changed the angle - pressed in hard, went up fast, bit at her skin and made the woman keen.

"Shit, fuck, right there, like that- _like that_!"

Pulling at Cross' hair so hard strands snapped. Martin did as he was told. He fucked her in that same spot over and over until she was yelling through an orgasm strong enough to send her dizzy. Her leg's visibly shook as she tried to curl in but couldn't, and Martin pressed up so far and in so tight she thought she was swallowing him. He panted and groaned appreciatively into her mouth as her pussy caressed and clenched. Rode out the wave hungrily as the air burst with his and Cross' consumption.

When he pulled out, stepped back with his fingers still digging into her leg, Amanda heaved and shivered from the come down. Cross carefully let go of her arms and ran fingers over the tender skin under them. Then he reached behind her, took himself in hand and purposefully, gently, pushed up into her all over again. Drummer's eyes rolled to the back of her head as Cross pumped slow, smooth, guiding himself over and over with such tender strokes, such lengthy thrusts. His breathing was unsteady as his heavy hand ran over her breasts and squeezed them lovingly.

She felt like nothing human, just sensation floating through skin. His face flush and expression captivated was bumping against her cheek in rhythm with his sex. Affectionately, mindlessly, she riddled his nose, his neck, his brow with kisses. He felt so _good_. Meeting her lips, he teased his tongue whilst she sighed at the taste of him. He took his time, and she thanked him for it with every hitch and whimper; only moving to circle her clit when she squirmed for it. He got firmer, took a better pace, and she expected him to work her until she came all over again.

What she didn't expect was him to pull out of her, and in the next beat use that same hand to help Martin make his way in. The sudden exchange, the difference in shape and style, the _stretch_? Amanda shook from head to toe, utterly overwhelmed. Martin drove in deep, rutted right against her hips with heavy beats that had her rocking up into Cross' chest. Tattooed fingers stroked up her throat, as she rattled out an ecstatic whine. She desperately clutched the shoulders of the man in front of her, his breathing laboured as he fucked her well and brought her almost to completion - before utterly pulling out and stepping away.

Drummer wailed as Cross filled her up again instead, taking her leg, circling her clit, and biting her shoulder as Martin dipped to pick up his lube. She was _so close_. As Cross fucked her, Martin poured more lubricant over himself, drizzled some over Amanda and Cross. Hands coming down dumbly over Martin's sweat-slicked sides, Drummer pulled his hips in, searching for his mouth. He licked at it, grabbing her throat with one hand, and his own cock with the other. She thought Cross would pull away again, for them to swap over once more in this incredible intimate dance. Instead she felt Martin sweep the head of his dick over her clit, then start pushing in right above the other goddamn cock.

As her pussy gave, and spread to take him - to take _both_ of them - Amanda lost control of herself. Arms flailing, she closed her eyes tight and just let them _do it_. Choking on his hand, and writhing at the expanse of feeling, she heard Cross groaning loudly at how Martin's penis, along with his own, filled their girl - how it pressed tightly against him. Involuntarily, adjusting to the sensation, Cross bucked up, once, twice, three times, and Amanda had never felt so _full_ , she moaned. Then Martin gave his first focused thrust and Cross did his best offer of the same, and Drummer loudly and immediately crashed into the most confused and compact orgasm she'd ever had. It felt like she was crushing down on the biggest thickest dick ever created - except it was two dicks, two dicks at once buried deep in her pussy. Both men squirmed and rutted at the feel of the orgasm rippling inside her, their ecstatic approval almost as loud as her own.

When reality seemed to settle back in somewhat Amanda could hear them kissing, could feel their arms passing her as they touched each other's hair, and pulled each other in tighter. The haze of their feed siphoning away until all that was left was their tangled mess of limbs holding her tightly atop their cocks. Martin's nose ran up her throat, as he settled against her cheek to look at her - hungry and hectic. Cross' face right beside his, breathing heavy, was more than a little astounded and overwhelmed. Amanda could feel the throb of them even as they sat still inside of her. She swallowed hard, trying to catch any kind of breath as Martin chortled. He pumped up a few times, and together Drummer and Cross rolled their heads back. 

"Shit... Man." Cross gasped, writhing, "That feels fucking _insane_."

"What's it feel like?" Amanda breathlessly squeaked and Martin did it again, obliging to offer another example.

"Like-" Cross' breath was hitching as she hiccupped and shivered, "Like I'm the one doing it?"

"Feel good?" Martin's voice was steady, but thick, like his tongue was stupid, and the pair groaned their ascent as he offered a few more languid strokes.

Amanda dumbly took stock of her position, her leg pulled up high and held by two arms that were reaching passed her to touch ribs, hips, asses. Hand on a chest, the other on the arch of a spine, she squeezed their skin as they watched her, gently kissing her nose, her forehead. Martin's other hand was in Cross' hair, rather than at her throat, stroking and scratching at his scalp; Cross' other hand was sliding down Amanda's body, causing shivers as it went, settling at her thigh - nails digging in. Squirming, Drummer closed her eyes and licked her lips, nodding. The approving heavy breath that came form Martin was soon lost to the sensation of being fucked by two cocks at once.

Cross and Amanda were so loud, unable to keep their breaths quiet, their approval calm. To her it felt like waves; one pulled back as the other pushed in and the rhythm, whilst a little ragged, was like the separate pulse of a heart. To them, to Cross, she could only imagine how _tight_ it must have been. It was slow at first, as the three of them worked out the angles, the give, the smoothest ride. Eyes would go wide and throats would hitch if ever they accidentally stumbled on a beat of ecstasy. And the more they went on, the faster it all got; the more confidently they fucked, the firmer they pushed. Until both men buried their heads against her skin and heaved and rutted with abandon. Amanda could hardly think, her body was made of sparks, their fuck filling her with lightning.

Never had her pussy ever felt like this; like it had everything touched and kissed, like the walls were there to give nothing but bliss. They were stroking _everything._ Fingers digging deep into her thigh, Cross could feel the muscles shaking there when her orgasm hit. As her pussy hunkered down over them, squeezing and sliding, her whole body lurched forward. Scrambling up Martin's shoulders, she just stopped breathing. Roughly Cross pulled up that leg and tossed it into Martin's waiting hand, taking her completely off her feet as her head rolled. That grasping clutching core now weighted entirely around them. The air swam red as, grabbing her hips and pulling her down roughly onto their cocks, Cross fucked her faster. She started wailing as one orgasm just danced on into another. Then Martin bucked cruel and hard alongside him, and so along came a-fucking-nother. Every stroke of their sex just eliciting more and more muscle-clenching, mind-numbing pleasure.

Utterly blank, Drummer shuddered and swam in orgasm after orgasm as her boys pushed it for as long as they could. Their voices mingling incoherently with hers as their bodies pressed in tight and she could feel every bit of skin. Together their dicks elicited the energy they wanted, and they ate it all, every bit, desperately, and with the need for even more. Until Martin ground in with an unsteady heaving thud, and Amanda felt something let go and knew she was squirting all over them. She could have cried. Cross yelped, and pulled out of her, stumbling back as Martin span and carried her away.

"What?" Amanda laughed thickly as she caught sight of Cross, soaked, stunned and still hard, leaning against the wall, "Are we edging it today, dude?" 

Martin's leg came up under her ass, and she heard the comforter being kicked off the bed. Then cool sheets came up against her back as he laid her down quick. Spreading her legs, he leant away and stroked her skin, from mouth, to neck, to tits, to tummy. He knelt at the edge of the incredibly low mattress, still buried inside of her as she gasped and shook, and he just ate up the sight. Amanda reached for his hands, and pulled him up to her lips. His arms settled around her head as they kissed, hectic and shaky, as she scratched at his skin and pulled at his ass until he started moving again. She squeaked into his mouth, nodding as he did what she wanted; kept fucking her.

Steady at first, he breathed her in, fought her tongue, their chests beat together as she spread for him. Feet on his thighs, she could feel his muscles moving and sighed in delight. His pace increased as he pulled away, came up on his hands to watch her enjoy him. She stroked his arms, kissed his pulse, until he reached for her throat again and she closed her eyes. He was slow with the pressure, but firm with his dick, and soon she was gasping for air, and whining as he stirred her up with rolling eyes. He pushed down on her windpipe, lightheaded and vision shaking, Amanda felt her pussy twitching. But then Martin's forehead came down hard on her shoulder, his hand flailing away as he groaned and Drummer felt more thighs pushing against her feet, saw Cross towering over the pair of them. Martin shook inside her as his head lolled back and he panted. His hips rolled and he pulled back, but then shoved forward with a heavy whine.

"Is- is he inside you?" Amanda whispered, absolutely astounded as Martin nodded, biting his lip and pushing back again, "Holy shit."

Amanda had never seen anything as beautiful as their faces enjoying each other as she reached down between her legs and started stroking herself. Every beat of Cross's hips made Martin jerk into her, and the absolute vacantly erotic expression on his face was incredible. Amanda scooted her ass down off the edge of the bed, taking that cock inside her as deep as she could as she reached around and cupped Cross' ass. She tried to buck up to the same beat, feet on the lip of the mattress. Martin's hand shot to her hair as she kissed at his chest and he pumped into her roughly. Then Cross took his neck and ragged him back to kiss him himself, to lick at his face. Together Drummer and Cross fucked him quick and teasing, working him until he was struggling to stay standing. He was on the verge of cumming, and Amanda smiled at his pleading face as she made her own pussy sing with her fingers.

"No..." He barked, grabbing hold of the base of his cock and pulling out of her, pushing against Cross to make him back away, "Not _yet_."

Cross laughed, and nodded, pushing him aside with a smack on the ass to make for Amanda. He tipped her over and encouraged her to crawl up the bed, following. Collapsing on the sheets, legs spread and knees up, he helped her take a straddle. Sinking on his cock slow and slick, she shook as she took it, the position getting him deep. Taking her wrists and holding them to his belly, Cross started fucking up into her quick and careless. She arched, her arms going taught as she circled her hips and felt her tits bouncing. They heard a growl and grinning together they felt the bed shifting. Martin's hands on her tits were rough as he pitched her forward and stretched her pussy wide with a determined shove of his cock. Amanda moaned and, letting go of her wrists, Cross gripped the edge of the mattress and groaned right along with her.

The pace they both set was unforgivingly fast, skin slapping as bodies writhed. They were burning up in this tight stuffy room but their focus was undivided; Cross fucking up, Martin fucking down, and Amanda working her hips between them, creating so much sensation she simply wanted to scream. A hand came down heavy on her hip as Martin pushed her to take Cross and him even deeper. Arching into his chest she gripped his neck and lost control of her eyes. He kneaded her tits and pulled at her nipples as Cross reached for her clit. His thumb drove in rough and fast and her hips bucked uncontrollably. Grabbing Martin's hand, she pushed her own hips down like he wanted, and brought that grip to her neck.

"Y- you're gonna make me cum again." She whimpered as he took hold and started to throttle.

Her obscene noises fell silent as she struggled to breathe, and all she could hear was their heaving chests and their sweat-slicked bodies meeting hers over and over again. Things were quickly turning hazy as Martin's grip increased, and he bit down on her shoulder. Cross pinched her clit between his thumb and finger and Amanda's spilled over. Her vision went black for half a second before the rush of air swelled back into her lungs, and her pussy rippled and clutched at their incredible work. That ever familiar burst of red dragged her pleasure into them and Martin shoved her over right against Cross' chest as he went even harder. Her hips jerking and her pussy singing as the man below her wailed and released every drop of his bliss inside of her, and her own orgasm tumbled over into another one. It made her back bounce like a spring. Martin choked at the sensation, it was _so_ tight, pounding into and against them both. He too pumped every last drop inside her pussy as he came, and she did too, a third time, quietly agape by Cross' neck.

Soft cocks slid out of her slowly as Martin rolled onto the bed and Cross rocked himself and Drummer over onto their sides. Her leg still wrapped around his hip, shaking and spent, she felt his fingers slipping between her folds and knew he would be tasting the juices dripping out of her if she opened her eyes. Rattling out an exhausted breath at the thought, Martin's beard slid over the skin at her back, trailing lazy kisses until his whole body settled in behind her. She reached around for his arm and pulled it against her chest like a blanket.

None of them looked grey anymore, the veins by their eyes hardly there, their sallow skin even looked healthy. They were fed and full up with _her_. Nobody else. Just her. Smiling to herself, the trailer shook as people moved, and soon the bed was straining under the addition of three more Rowdies. Squeezing in tight onto an undersized bed, they quietly giggled and griped until they'd all shuffled round and tangled enough limbs to be comfortable. Amanda hugged Cross tightly to her chest, about ready to cry with contentment as he kissed at her sternum sleepily. For the first time in months, they were _safe_. The Rowdy 3 were home.

Before letting herself drift away into sleep, Drummer whispered, "I love you."

More hands reached out and touched her than she had the energy to count. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I only have one more little story arc in my head after this, so we're I think we're almost at the beginning of the end folks!


	20. What are the Odds?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the final Arc!  
> It'll all be over soon.  
> x

The bed was half empty when Amanda woke up. She couldn't tell if it was morning or evening, only knew that Beast was snoring as Gripps teetered on the edge about to fall off. Lurching up, she could feel her hair wedged up on one side and gave it a lazy itch. Naked as the day she was born, she wandered into the tiny trailer bathroom and stared at herself in the shitty mirror. The taps didn't work, so she just had to scrape her appearance into something vaguely human before wandering back for her clothes.

There was a murmured conversation going on outside as she pulled her dress on over her head and stepped into a pair of boots that weren't actually hers. Dropping out onto the dirt, she saw the three other boys passing a spliff between themselves as the sun went down. They were sat across a bench made of crates and piled up tires. Wandering over, Cross offered her a toke as he wrapped his arm around her hips and pulled her in between his legs, right against his chest.

"You boys sleep okay?" She asked blowing smoke before passing the bud onto Vogel, who shrugged at her.

"Did you?" Martin returned, rather than answering the question.

"With you numskulls?" She squinted, before smirking, "Yeah, I slept fine."

Martin studied her face carefully, he knew she wasn't lying, but seemed determined to be sure. When he nodded, Cross snuggled into her stomach, and a comfortable silence fell as the trailer park went from sunlit to twilit. It made sense, she supposed, their caution; she had been screaming at them only hours before. Remembering why made her feel nauseous, for a dozen different reasons, so she buried her face in Cross' greasy hair. Breathed in his skin, and pointedly stopped thinking about it.

The Van had been brought round, and there were people milling about the trailer park, looking at them with various levels of curiosity and hostility. A dull thud was emanating from the radio as it pulled in whatever crackling metal station they could find. Thoughts drifted to where the Van had been before, the diner with the broken door.

"Did anybody call the cops?" Amanda wondered, "We should probably get moving, huh?"

"Yeah." Cross muttered.

"Just didn't wanna wake you." Martin blew a ring of smoke lazily into the sky.

"You looked real cute snoring, Boss." Vogel grinned, and she reached over to smack him playfully on the head.

"Anybody come over to talk to you?" Drummer scrutinised some of the faces that lingered to watch them.

"No." Cross leaned back to look up at her. 

"Mhmm." She squinted, pushing out of his arms before making for the trailer, calling back over her shoulder, "We definitely need to be heading out then."

* * *

The Rowdy 3 crowded around the front seats, staring through the windscreen as they pulled out of the trailer park and round passed the diner. There were 3 patrol cars sat empty, their doors open, their lights off. Martin pulled up as they all squinted, confused. The diner was dark, so where were the cops?

"Do we...?" Vogel whispered against Amanda's arm.

Martin took a deep inhale and turned the wheel, "No." and the diner exploded.

A woman came streaming out of the broken door and into the parking lot. Tripping over her own feet as she looked back at the flames spewing forth, her mess of limbs spilled across the floor. She saw the Van and shouted something, as Martin pointedly continued to pull away. Whoever she was, she was up and sprinting towards them with scraped knees and bleeding palms. Skidding up in front of the bonnet before they could get anywhere near the road her dishevelled hair was blonde, her earth-mother dress was torn and tattered, and she had a pair of broken cuffs dangling from her wrists. Baring his teeth, Martin revved the engine, pushing forward, and feet scraped into the muck as she held on with gritted determination. Her eyes darted amongst the faces she could make out through the glass.

The lady fucking shrieked; "Hey! Hey! I been looking for you!"

"Huh." Gripps jerked, "So that's what it's like to be on the other end of that."

"It's fucking weird, right?" Drummer muttered as they all gawped at this strange woman.

She jumped like there was a popped balloon; not shattering glass and roaring flame, then she was banging on the front of the Van and dashing round to the door; "Let me in! Let me in, let me in, let me in!"

"What the fuck, man?" Cross laughed, reaching for the handle, but Martin span and grabbed his hand, hitting the accelerator and lurching forward.

"Said 'no'." He gritted out, his whole body tense as she slammed against _his_ door window, clutching the wing-mirror and peering in at them wide-eyed and unsettlingly close.

"You're not just going to leave me here, Incubus?" She shrieked hysterically, and the boys looked amongst themselves in confusion; all except Martin, who fixed his eyes firmly on the road and kept on going, "You're _still_ pissed?"

"Martin-" Amanda gaped as they pushed onto the highway, "Martin she's not letting go..."

"Who-" Vogel started.

"I'm not even looking for you, Incubus! Really!" The woman shouted over the rising rush of wind, "We're cool. Super green. I'm only after the Moirai you've got with you!"

The Van was barrelling down the highway, away from the billowing rising smoke, the woman struggling to remain latched on as her toes dug into the rusted door. Veering in and out of lanes, her grip was uncanny and her smile a touch insane. Martin snapped his teeth before glancing at her. Drummer gripped his shoulder, her eyes wide as they all watched his strange display of distaste.

"Don't be making choices." He spat at the woman, "Not here!"

"Well I already made eight this morning." Her smile turned mean as she shouted over the gurgling engine, "I don't see what's wrong with making _six more_."

The Van lurched violently as Martin hit the brakes. The Rowdy 3 tumbled, screeching to a halt in the middle of the goddamn-road. She still hadn't let go. The woman, taking advantage of being stationary, was instead immediately worming her fingers into the gap at the top of Martin's window, which he always left ajar for his smoke. Forcing it down as their irate driver smacked at her fingers, the sight would have been hilarious if it weren't so invasive.

"And Banshee?" He hissed, clipping her digits over and over again, "Did you finally get bored? _Choose for her_? That why you're alone?"

The woman squeezed her chin passed the glass, her lips poking into the cabin, with her voice a little calmer it was clear she was British, but not Dirk Gently British; "Fuck you, Incubus! She went out screaming. Exactly the way _she_ wanted. The same way _you_ -"

Amanda could hear sirens coming from somewhere and lurched to wind down Martin's window, much to his horror; "There's no time for this, dude, either she's coming or we're staying, and _we aren't_ staying."

"Ha ha!" The woman exclaimed, diving through the window and clambering over Martin's body, "She's right. And there's more than just coppers in that convoy."

Martin snarled and kicked the Van into gear, skidding down the highway again as quickly as the old box could carry them. Clattering over the seats and pressing her ass against the back doors, the stranger eyed them all. She was seeing into them, beyond them, around them, her pupils rolling and flicking unsettlingly, except when she landed on the back of Martin's head. _That_ seemed to tickle her, her face splitting into an uncomfortably unhinged grin. Then she laughed into her hands and fell into a bench with the motion of changing lanes.

"You can call me Val," She eventually offered to the dumbfounded Rowdies around her, "for now."

* * *

"We need to get off the highway." Drummer said in Martin's ear as he kept one eye on the road and the other on Val in the rear view mirror, "They know the Van."

Grunting, he took the next exit onto a desolate country road and sped down it, throwing dust and rocks into the moonlight. Rubbing his shoulder in a bid to offer comfort, Amanda turned a wary eye on the woman they were transporting away from whatever bullshit it seemed she had brought their way. It was clear she knew what they were, which meant she was likely _something_ too.

"Where'd you get the entourage, Incubus?" Or at least she knew what _Martin_ was.

" _We're_ Incubus..." Vogel started, then flinched into silence as Martin glared at him to stop talking.

Val's eyes widened and her face contorted into some kind of amused resigned realisation, that seemed to be transitioning quickly into anger; it was becoming readily apparent that this woman was a boiling pot, ready to overflow for every feeling that crossed her features, "I knew it. I _knew_! I always said to her, I said 'he's not _saying_ anything'. You never _said anything_!"

Martin looked at her in the mirror, absolutely abjectly silent as she glared back, until finally he asked; "Would you?"

"Were they _there_?" She gestured broadly, lurching to the seat beside Martin, shoving Amanda out of the way.

"The whole time." Martin grimaced, leaning away from her raging face.

"You piece of shit!" She screamed and grabbed for his neck, but five sets of hands were on her and pulling her back as she shrieked and writhed, "You saw what they did to Banshee! To me! Not once did you say a _fucking thing_!"

Martin said it again as she was shoved to the floor and kept at bay; " _Would you_?"

Then the woman was laughing, choking, crying as the hands that restrained her held firm; "No."

With a nod, Martin drove on in silence, Val stilling for long enough that the hands loosened, and she was allowed to sit up. Wiping her snotty nose and streaming eyes on the tattered fabric of her dress, she shuddered, and Amanda studied her. Studied another victim of the Freak Zoo. Cross pulled out, popped and offered the woman a beer quietly, and she took it with a shaking breath and downed the can in three gulps. Nodding appreciatively, Gripps and Cross invited her up onto the bench next to them because the Rowdy 3 _got_ anger, they understood outbursts of pain even if they couldn't quite grasp the full context.

Looking them over again, with the same strange shaking eyes she sighed, "Banshee got _sick_ , Incubus. There were fewer and fewer choices for her that ended with any kind of grace or- or dignity. But she'd already picked... picked the one way that took some of the bastards with her. And she stood by that. Never let me offer a different one. She's- she told me to find you again, and your Moirai."

"What's a Moirai?" Vogel asked, ever the one to open his gob first.

"The Fates?" Val answered, a little surprised by the question, and even more so by the way they all looked at her confused, "They can see what is, was, could be? Do you not tell them anything, Incubus?"

"You mean _me_?" Amanda blinked, "You're looking for _me_?"

* * *

Abandoned malls were strange places, with empty shelves, peeling posters, murky skylights and darkened store fronts. Amanda peeked through metal shutters and hopped up into decorative planters whose contents had long since withered and died. She thought the strangest thing about them was that no matter how long they stood empty, no matter how decrepit and spoiled they got, it always felt like the lights were about to turn on, shitty music was about to play and people were going to come barrelling round the corners looking for the next big sale. Here though, the only thing round the corner was another Rowdy trying to break into an empty shop.

Drummer was thinking. 'Moirai', Val had said, was Amanda's Project, made up of three Weirdo's pissing in Blackwing's eyes. _Three_. Were they like her? Did they have Pararibulitis too? Or were they free of that crap? How were they using their visions? Did they know the world was ending? Could they see more than just the things that already were? That 'was' and 'will be' shit?

Rounding one of a million corners, she came upon Martin, circling inside a grand empty fountain, kicking the few remaining penny-wishes. Up on the balcony walkways above, Vogel and Beast were chasing nothing, convinced the place was haunted and trying to catch a ghost to prove it. Val was leaning on a plexi-glass barrier, watching the Rowdy below with still eyes and a grim expression.

Amanda stepped over the lip and hopped into the fountain, "She doesn't call you anything but 'Incubus'." Martin grunted, widening his loop to account for Drummer's presence, "I thought you'd hate that? And- and I told her my name, so why does she keep calling me-"

"Far as she's concerned, who you were before doesn't exist." He ground his teeth, passing her closely, "Think Banshee's name was 'Banshee'?"

"So she _knows_ your name is Martin?" Amanda glanced up at the woman in question, whose eyes were now on her, writhing and twitching in a way that was almost mesmerizingly uncomfortable.

Martin shrugged in response, "To her that ain't what I am. Not what _she_ is." 

"Does that mean she's going to call _all_ of you that?" He nodded to her, pausing to flex his fists beside her, looking at her face with intense feeling (and not a good one), "Why does she get to be called fucking 'Val' then?"

"Short for something else." He muttered, leaning over to kiss Drummer's forehead - grounding himself, "Her old name was gone long before I met her."

"What's it short for?"

"Valkyres." Val called from the balcony - she had good ears.

Amanda's eyebrows knitted together, the names Blackwing gave were sometimes very on the nose. Incubus made sense, more-so now than ever. Dirk's made sense after some mental gymnastics, Icarus. What about Gog? She knew these things were myths, legends, but it's not like she was learned. Drummer hoped with Banshee it wasn't too literal...

Unable to keep the annoyance out of her voice she called up, "And what's that? A battle-maiden?"

"I can show you..." Val smiled, and started heading for the nearest stairwell.

"Don't-" Martin took Drummer's arm.

"What?"

"She makes choices-" He started, a bitter edge to his words.

" _You made your own_." The woman snipped, there quicker than either of them expected, and she grabbed Amanda's cheeks and kissed her.

* * *

Drummer's bones ached. The chair under her ass was made of old hard wood, topped with a sad little cushion, its comfortableness only afforded to it by virtue of its familiarity. She squeezed the arms and fidgeted, opening her eyes. Above her spanned the most glorious sky, stars so bright, so close, so sparkling, it would have brought tears if it weren't the same sky that she saw every night and every _day_ since the end of the world.

The creaking didn't just come from the chair as she got up to chuck another log in the pit. Around her buildings loomed, tall and dark, and dead. Nature took them back, then nature started dying as well. The hovel behind Amanda was more home than any house had ever been, and soon she would have to leave that too. The food had stopped growing. It was time to move on.

Looking at her old black hands, she could hardly find the energy for it. Counting the veins and spots across her thin aged skin, she rubbed at her stinging scorched face and sighed. The silence was infinite. Everything she did was loud because nothing else made a sound in the world. Except the wind, sometimes. It reminded her of something, from a very long time ago, a howling horrendous sound. Somehow it made her feel powerful, rather than frightened. Oh, how she loved the wind. What was it, she wondered? _That_ she could never seem to remember.

Up above her, another star winked out. There were still so many, but a great deal less than when she was a child. Could she remember what grass felt like? Stretching her back and grunting at the fire, Amanda felt a pain in her jaw. Rubbing it, her chest throbbed. And her face met the floor so fast she thought she might have fainted. She coughed, and spluttered, and got herself rolled over, but she couldn't get back up. The pain in her jaw was pulsing up from her chest, but the beat was off. Too old for any of it...

"There's a bunch of different versions of this." A woman said from above her, with a face that tickled her memory but nothing more, as she stepped in and crouched over Amanda, "In your sleep, doing something boring, growing plants, always _here_. Wherever here is, I suppose. Is it New York? I've never been to New York..." the woman stared around her wistfully, before looking back down with an air of disinterest, "Anyway, in a lot of them you're alone."

Amanda was back in her chair again, smiling as her body cracked and cooled from a day of work. A hand in her own, rubbing a calloused thumb over her tired old knuckles. She opened her eyes as a woman spoke.

"Sometimes you have people with you." Looking around her, people stepped in and out of Amanda's vision, old and beautiful faces she loved, even if she couldn't say a single ones' name, none of them acknowledged the woman stood next to her, "I recognise some. Other's?"

"That's Todd." Amanda explained as her brother snored in his own chair beside her.

"And them?" The stranger pointed and two other women were sat there now, staring together at this peculiar visitor.

"You called us 'Moirai'." One of them said, her mismatched eyes hardened by inevitability, then they too were gone.

"But most are like this." The woman sighed, "An empty world and an empty woman. What happened?"

"I didn't..." Amanda struggled to find the words, her chest aching as she struggled to breathe, "I didn't stop it."

"Stop what?"

"The end of the Universe." Amanda heaved, rubbing her jaw, "It's all still broken."

"Interesting." The woman nodded, looking about her again, before leaning in and kissing her.

* * *

The bullet whizzed by Drummer's ear as a fist grabbed her by the scruff of her collar and yanked her back behind cover. She gripped Cross' hand as he shook furiously next to her. There was blood coming out of his ear, and even more on his hands.

"Where are the boys?" Amanda shouted over the din of gunfire, the deafening pop of a flashbang close by.

Cross took a deep inhale, looked at the ground, shook his head, and it was like her organs were falling out. Then a bullet tore through Cross' eye and he slumped against the wall never to move again. Screaming, Amanda pulled out the wand, turned, and exploded into sunlight. Who gave a fuck where they were, who else she might hurt? There was no one else worth caring about. She burned the place up... And took herself with it.

In her last shaking blink before she winked out like a dying star; "There's even more like this." Val. "Violent and vengeful. Do you feel satisfied? You achieved nothing, really. I mean, in this one there's no one left to stop you. Could you burn the world?"

"For them." Amanda's charred blackened lips spat.

"And I thought you didn't look like much." Val scoffed, "There's other options. Some are so _boring_ , you're old, you're young, you're surrounded by loved ones, you're alone. Fucking happy too, sometimes. Okay, a _lot_ of times. But then, there's some I just _don't get_."

Pressing through the flame, their lips met.


	21. Same Shit Different Dimension

The Wand was gone. It was gone. Collapsing down into the muck under rain-splattered trees, she searched and searched in the tall soggy grass. She hadn't meant to use it like that, it just flew out of her hand. There was a flash. It was gone.

"Fuck!" She'd only been practicing, Beast had taught her the word for 'hole' and when one opened you could chuck stuff into it - she had thought maybe people, she had not planned on chucking the damn wand!

"Like, what is this one?" A woman snipped right by her ear, and Amanda jerked away mortified.

Spinning, she saw someone she hadn't laid eyes on in years, the memory of her foggy and peculiar, almost like it wasn't quite real; "Val?!"

"Oh, you can _see me_?" The woman asked, pointing at herself as she glanced around blindly - her eyes utterly black, just empty sockets, "Cos to me this place is a void. You really just disappeared, huh?"

"What are you talking about?" Drummer started, backing away, stumbling as she put distance between herself and the weird woman she hardly remembered who was apparently talking nonsense.

In a blink Val was _gone_ , and Amanda span - running through the trees, back towards the Van. Stumbling out into the clearing she knew the outside looked different, but couldn't quite put her finger on why. None of the guys were outside in the rain, so dashing to the doors she yanked the back ones open. Rocking back in surprise, she caught Cross and Martin in the middle of... shenanigans.

"Hey you remember that weird lady, ages and ages ago?" She gasped, clambering in, over and between them, "I think she blew up a diner? She's, like, _out there_."

"Um-"

"She said I disappeared..." Drummer muttered thoughtfully, "What kind of bullshit is that?"

There was a long beat of silence as she undid her soggy jacket and pulled it off. Tossing it into the driver's cabin as she also started unlacing her boots.

"I mean... it seems like the same kind of bullshit that has _another weird lady_ climbing into somebody else's fucking van." Cross snapped, and she froze mid-boot pull.

"What-"

"Who are you, man?" He persisted, but Martin reached out and grabbed his arm.

Amanda actually looked at their faces then, smiling awkwardly in disbelief. The utter lack of recognition in their eyes, their uncomfortable distance as they tried to lean their topless torsos away from her, the way Cross seemed angry rather than pleased to see her, and Martin just looked confused...

"What- what do you mean?" She laughed, feeling a familiar pang of panic, "Drum- Drummer girl. Amanda. You know- what are you doing?"

"Okay, well, _Amanda_ ," They never actually _called_ her that, "would you mind getting lost?"

Glancing around, her breath grew short, and she noted the absence of Gripps, Vogel, Beast; "Where is everyone?"

"Every-fucking-who?"

Amanda's eyes widened in horror. If they didn't know them either... She scrambled back over and out in to the rain. Circling the Van now, actually taking note of what was wrong. Still spray painted and dented, still a beat up pile of junk, it had one notable difference - nowhere on it did it say 'Rowdy 3'. Her chest hurt, and rubbing it, she found herself muttering.

"No, no, no. That's not right." Yanking open the side door to reveal the two men inside yet again, she shouted, " _Vogel_ , please tell me you know him! Gripps? Beast! You have to-"

"Lady we don't even know who _you_ are!" Cross snapped, lurching for the door, and she flinched, stumbled back.

Gripping her hair, she dropped down and put her head between her knees, she couldn't breathe as a woman's voice broke in against the rain; "You still alive?"

Snapping up, she came face to face with the eyeless Val, and grabbed for her clothes; "Where am I? What have you done?"

"Me?" Val scoffed as Amanda fell right through her, "This is just one of your choices! What even is it? Is it bad? Is it cool?"

"Where's Cross?" Drummer gulped, as the bodies in the Van started moving, then she suddenly remembered something about this _Val_ , "Where's Incubus?"

"Are they not here?" But Amanda was expanding, her body ballooning before her very eyes.

Fingers the size of sausages, and feet the size of dinner plates, she was filling up fast, about to burst at the seams. An attack. Her stomach spread and her tits grew to be comparable to watermelons as her eyes swelled shut and her lips surged together. Throat closing up, she scratched at herself, choking...

"Oh is this it?" Val asked curiously, detached, actually rather bored, turning towards the sound, "I can't see. Are you dying now?"

Amanda stumbled away from her. Scrabbling against the side of the Van, the Martin and Cross who were in there, (not her Martin and Cross, somebody else's Martin and Cross) hopped out to follow her.

"What the fuck, man?" She heard Cross whisper as a hand grabbed her shoulder and pulled her round, "Who is she even talking to? Is she nuts?"

"Hey, you okay?" Martin asked as she rattled out a disgustingly strangled breath that made him recoil, "She's _not_ okay."

"Well, what's wrong with her?" Cross's tone was agitated, but he was stepping in to touch her forehead and check her mouth, utterly confused but not a total ass.

"Feed." She choked, and he also recoiled, looking at Martin mortified.

"What did you say?" Martin whispered, protectively stepping in front of Cross.

"It's energy-" She gasped, finding the world was starting to blur, falling to her knees, "Eat it."

Her vision faded to black as a burst of blue light erupted around her, and then the visions took her away.

* * *

Opening her eyes, Amanda found she was back inside the Van, her jacket laid over her and her boots tied up. Not once in all the years she had lived in it, had it ever felt this alien, this forebodingly unlike _home_. She was the only one in it, now, but she could hear mumbled talking. Focused her attention, tried to listen.

"-was talking to _herself_ , man!" That was Cross, he seemed so close to angry, all the damn time.

"Mm, also knows your name." Martin pointed out gently, "Knows what we eat."

"Yeah, yeah, all the more reason to drop her, _now_." Amanda didn't know if she liked this version of Cross; Cross 2.0, Cross B, Cross the dickhead. She _knew_ that wasn't her Rowdy. She knew it. _Her_ Cross had more empathy than him; "She clearly-"

"Did you smell her?" And that seemed to catch Cross out, his silence was heavy, "Smells like you. Hell, smells like me. Kind of smell that sits deep, like we're under her skin."

"Man, this is taking forever." Val was suddenly crouched next to Drummer in the back of the Van, "What's supposed to be happening here? Why haven't you died?"

Amanda shot up and fell out of the doors, right into Martin's arms as he looked down at her worriedly. Shoving him away she span out into the clearing. The Van was empty again, and Drummer shuddered, was Val even real? The two men watched her with varying levels of caution, and she hated it. The utter lack of trust in their eyes.

"This is _your_ jacket." She pulled it from her shoulder and threw it at Martin, "And I smell like you because I'm one of you."

Cross butted in, "What does that even-"

"Me, you, Gobbo, Gripps, the Wild-One!" Amanda snapped, "The Rowdy fucking 3!"

"That's six-" Absolute dickhead.

"Yeah, well, you'd already bought the t-shirts." The sarcasm was bitter in her mouth, that was something _her_ Cross had said, "Look, I'm sorry. I don't know what's happening. Maybe this is some alternate dimension shit or something? Like, I know you, but you guys clearly don't know me-"

"How'd you know us?" Martin asked, pointedly.

"Like on what level, or?" Amanda was exasperated, was that really important?

"Like, _what_ do you know?" He clarified carefully, stepping towards her, but she flinched back, because his eyes still didn't know her.

Sighing, she reeled off some things; "You eat energy, which I have in spades, but you've been feeding off each other since you were kids - once you learned fucking gave you something." She pointed at Cross, "You're a Crustie, cos your Dad threw you out of a car when you were a kid. And a dude called Nought took _good_ care of you. He went back for you, by the way." At his widening stare, she nodded to Martin, "You got fed through the system, and grew up _hard_. You always thought you were a monster, and maybe you are but that doesn't matter cos you're gentle and kind with the people that matter. But then you got taken by Blackwing-"

"Blackwing?" And that pulled her up short.

"Yeah... Underground bunker? Freak Zoo? They held you there for years? Running experiments..." Their blank stares clarified something, and she quickly connected dots, "No Blackwing."

Rubbing tears from her eyes, she hated the conclusion that lead her to. Even without such a fucked up shady regime, two broken lonely boys _still_ ended up homeless, living in a Van. Where was _their_ Amanda? Was she still locked up at home, frightened to even breathe? What happened to Vogel? Did Gripps ever run away?

"You... care about us." Cross rolled his shoulders as he caught the wave of her feelings, and she scoffed at his incredulity.

"You like it when my pussy is sloppy." She said directly, looking him straight in the eye, not at all embarrassed, and his jaw went slack.

"Oh-kay." Martin stepped forward again, this time with a chortle, and she didn't flinch, "You know us."

"I know a _version_ of you." Amanda clarified.

"And are they happy?" He asked, and it was such a peculiar question both of the people who heard it were taken aback.

"Y-yeah." She stammered, "Yeah. I think so. Are- aren't you?"

* * *

Three dirty punks sat awkwardly in the door to the Van. Two men listening as a strange woman explained what she was, where she came from, and who her Rowdy 3 were. Cross rolled some kush as they both nodded with the beats she told. When he got the thing lit, they passed it between themselves slowly, asking questions as Amanda described a family to them that they had never had. The love that flowed from her with every word kept them captivated beyond measure.

"Do you think they're out there?" Cross asked, comfortable now that he could feel her care - it rolled off of her like warm air, "Could we find them?"

"You should." She nodded, smiling gently at him, "It's always good to know you're not alone."

"What about you?" Martin pushed a harder question, "Is there another version of you out there?"

"Maybe?" She squinted, blowing smoke into the sky as the sun went down.

"Should we find _her_?" His tone was careful, and she was struck by his awareness, even in a different Universe - he knew she'd feel protective.

"If-" Amanda struggled to consider the state her other self could be in, hoped that perhaps she had taken steps to free herself before she was 30, but knew if Dirk Gently never appeared, if the Rowdy 3 never threw a brick through her window... "If she's like me? She _needs_ you."

"You-"

"You saved my life." She looked at Cross, hard, before he could even finish his sarcastic question, "And I saved yours."

Nodding, the illustrated man (because he was still tattoo covered, and beautiful), took a toke and smiled. Martin took the last drag before flicking the butt into the brush. Then they were squished together in silence, watching stars wink to life. It was comfortable, it was kind, it was almost familiar.

"Good God, woman." Amanda jerked back as Val stepped up right in front of her, "This has got to be the longest death I've ever _failed_ to witness. What are you even doing? Just go run in front of a bus or something! I want to understand why this is one of your endings! I can't do that if it _never fucking ends_."

Conscious that the two men beside her didn't even flinch, Drummer knew she was the only one who could see Val. Cross was eying her, though, Martin too. They could feel her anxiety rearing, could probably smell it on her skin. Then one of them did something that totally threw her off guard...

Cross ran the back of his fingers up the side of her leg. Turning his body into hers, she lost focus on the impossible ghost in front of her. Watched as he followed the shape of her knee, and began running his palm up the inside of her thigh. Swallowing hard, she fidgeted away from him, pushing up into Martin's chest. His nose ran along her cheek, his fingers tracing the line of her throat.

"Wh- what are you doing?" She whispered into his open mouth, as Cross pulled her legs apart.

"You don't have to be nervous. Does it always feel like this around you?" Cross asked with a thick tongue.

"Does what?" She squeaked, realising they'd misinterpreted her reaction as Martin traced her shoulders, and stroked at her breasts through her t-shirt.

"Overwhelming." They both croaked, and Martin licked at her lips.

Before she could answer, Cross pulled her face round and was kissing her roughly, Martin pressing her hard between them both as they took her down onto the floor of the Van. Their hands everywhere as they pulled at her shirt, and slid over her skin. Their breath heavy in her ears, their desire like warm water - so utterly known to her she almost couldn't think. Think she did, though, as a hand slid round to her belt and unbuckled it, as a tongue lapped over her teeth and a mouth sucked at her ear.

"No." She gasped between kisses, "Wait. Stop."

"Why?" Cross panted, "You want us. We can _feel_ it."

She started pushing their hands away, "It's not _you_ I want."

"What's the difference?" Martin asked, and she shoved herself up and threw herself out of the Van.

Wiping her mouth, she paced, disgusted to see Val was still fucking stood there, smirking; "I mean, get horny, sure. It's not like _I'm_ the one who's going to be dying."

"The difference is I care about _them._ " Amanda tried to explain, ignoring the woman she was increasingly convinced was just a hallucination, "I care about them _on purpose_. Not by virtue of who they look like. You- you're not _my_ Martin. You're not my Cross. Do you understand that?" the two men looked out at her, offering no reply, "There's an Amanda out there who might love you like I do, but I'm not her. I'm not. I can't be."

"Oh! Oh, I think I understand." Val was grinning, a realisation dawning on her that made Drummer's skin crawl.

"Shut up." Drummer snapped, and the boys' expression went from _want_ to concern, "Just shut up! Who even are you, anyway? Why are you here? Why do you keep saying I'm going to die?"

Martin and Cross were edging out of the Van, witnessing a conversation that only had one participant; "Oh, I don't think you die in this one." Val giggled tossing the Wand down at Drummer's feet, "I think you choose to stay."

"What are you _talking_ about?" Amanda snapped, as the two men stared at the Wand that had appeared seemingly from thin air, "Why-"

"Because you love them, and they need you, and you can't take the chance that they'll never have their own 'Amanda'." Val was outright laughing, "That's why you disappear. You're going to choose _them_. Over yourself. Do you do that _every time_?" Amanda stared at her, nauseated and dumbfounded, and Val took that as her answer, "Now is that _beautiful_? Or pathetic?"

Then Val stepped in heavy, and kissed her.

* * *

Martin shoved Valkyres away as Amanda's skull smacked against hard tile. Crying out, Drummer reached for the back of her head and felt wet. Looking at her fingers, red mingled in with the black. Cursing, Martin scrambled down beside her in the dried out fountain. Cross, emerging from around a corner with Gripps, rushed over as soon as they saw the commotion. Putting themselves bodily between their people and her.

"I can see them all, you see?" Val's voice was hectic as Cross growled and forced her to back up further, "All the different threads that will take you up to the end of your life. I can pick the one that comes true, where the thread is severed. Will you be old, will you be young, will it be peaceful, painful, stupid or cruel? I see all of yours; the possibilities of a Moirai, and it's _fascinating_."

Amanda's eyes couldn't focus, Martin's hair just a yellow shape over her head as she blinked up at the skylights. Was any of that _real_? She'd been old, she'd been destruction, she'd been lost... Had that happened? Did it _have_ to happen?

"Told you, no making choices!" Martin snarled, his fists in Drummer's clothes instead of Val's face.

"Did you know there are some forms of you that just _don't exist_?" Val laughed as Vogel and Beast came hurrying down, "As though something went back and deleted you? Body and soul! Some- some where you're crushed by the weight of bodies at your feet, blood on your hands, madness in your heart. And then- and then there's more, _so many more_ where you just... _don't_. Like... _ever_."

"Stop talking!" Martin shouted, lurching up and towards her, as Valkyres cackled and dashed away from the fountain, out of his reach, "You aren't choosing for her!"

"You're right. I'm not." Valkyres dashed away up the stairs, "I'm choosing for me!" 


	22. Hello, Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Editorial note:- Valkyres mythos
> 
> A host of female figures who choose those who will die in battle. Often using malicious magic to ensure their preferences are brought to fruition.

Martin carried Amanda through the mall at a dizzying pace as her eyes rolled and her head swooned. Footsteps clattered as the Rowdy 3 followed and somewhere in the distance glass shattered. The echoing sound of a flash-bang in an empty lobby had them all spinning to look down the darkened corridor behind them. Even dazed, Amanda knew they were far from safe.

Gripps split off, made for a shutter, whistling for the others to join as soon as it showed itself to be somewhat loose. Martin gently set Drummer on her feet, handing her to Cross who pulled her in against his shoulder. Together Martin, Gripps, Vogel and Beast got the barrier lifted enough to let them all duck inside with an almighty metallic screech. Cross hurriedly got Amanda in, but they did not follow, and something felt so horrifically familiar about it. Something unwelcomely like Deja vu in the shouting and the squeaking sound of feet moving through the dead arcade.

"You hide." Martin whispered to Cross, taking his hand, "We'll draw them off-"

"No!" Drummer lurched, and everything span, she landed hard on her knees as the boys hurried forward to help her, "No splitting up. Not for a single second. We stay together. No one's alone."

Grunting as he got her to her feet, Martin sighed; "Drummer-"

"Did I stutter?" She bared her teeth angrily, and after a beat the man nodded.

As hair was stroked out of her face, six bodies scurried away into the darkened aisles of an old accessories shop. The shutter scratched its way back down deafeningly loud and Amanda was bundled into a corner behind a cashier's counter.

"What's going on, man?" Cross hissed into the dark, "Martin?"

The man in question didn't respond, he was pulling off one of his many layers to tear up and press against the back of Amanda's split head. She looked up at him as well as she could, to see the resigned worry on his face.

"She picks people's deaths," Amanda wrestled her mouth into speaking, "doesn't she?"

The nod was slight, but they all saw it. Martin pulled Drummer in tight as he began tying his make-shift bandage to her head. There was a surge and all the lights above them turned on. Swearing, Amanda covered her face, immediately agonised by the brightness. Vogel pulled off his jacket and held it over her head as all of their eyes flitted between her and the shutters. The mall tannoy crackled and chimed, a pleasant announcement tune.

"So I lied." Val's voice echoed through the halls, breathless and full of mirth, "Banshee didn't tell me to find you. In fact she- she told me 'if you ever bump into that Moirai, you run, you run as fast and as far away as you can get', because whenever she thought of me and you, all she could do was _scream_."

Armed men in black edged their way passed the store. Gripps yanked Beast's head below the counter to keep her out of sight with the rest of them. There was the unmistakable yowl of walkie-talkies, and muttered reports over quiet lines. Above them, they could also hear movement from the speakers, the sounds of muttering and whispers.

"Yeah, I get it." Val snipped, clearly not alone, "So, I kept that promise to her. I _did_. Avoided all of you, for the longest time. She just forgot, you see? Sh- she always forgot. I never planned on living after her. So I picked you-"

"Alright." Another voice chimed in, spine-chillingly familiar as Vogel and Amanda looked at each other startled, "That's enough."

A gentle southern twang. The sound of a gun firing. A body hitting the floor. Cross reached over and took Gripps' hand, as Martin slumped onto his ass and buried his face in his palms. Vogel whined, rubbing the shoulder he had been shot in, as Amanda felt nauseated.

"Priest."

* * *

"Project Incubus..." His voice called over the sound system clear and crisp, obviously ready to make a whole speech.

Instead the sound of a woman wailing overwhelmed his voice, and through the halls her voice rang like a howl; Val pained and profane, "You bastard! You- you promised!"

"I most certainly did. And I thank you for the trail of bodies that kept us on track, but I never said I would do it kindly." Priest was speaking away from the microphone, muffled and taunting, "What, you think I'd just shoot you in the head? Where's the fun in that? I always knew you were a damned idiot."

"Bastard..." There was the sound of blunt impact, and a protracted silence.

"As I was sayin'," Priest chirped cheerfully, "Project Incubus, Miss Amanda Brotzman - _recently designated Project Moirai_ \- and, um, whatever that other _thing_ is you've got with you." Beast hissed, "I have been employed by, well, you know who, to bring you in. Now, the brief did say they would prefer you alive, rather than dead, but nowhere does it state that you must remain unharmed. And unlike this unfortunate excuse for a failed experiment beside me, I'm sure you also don't have a death wish. So, if you would kindly present yourselves to my men, immediately. Why don't we all just get on our way?"

There was a long beat of silence where nothing seemed to move and the Rowdy 3 just looked at one another perfectly calmly, always resolute in rebellion. As quietly as they could they readied their weapons; Beast handed Amanda her wand, and the six of them carefully got up.

"No? No takers?" Came that awful smooth voice over the tannoy, "Oh, well."

Then the mall was filled with a horrendous shrieking din as every shutter in the place started to rise at once. Rushing forward, through the well lit aisles, the Rowdy 3 pressed themselves against the wall by the entrance under the racket's cover. Dizzy, Amanda felt an arm pressing against her stomach, keeping her steady, and she held it - unable to really see whose it was, her head now draped by the jacket Vogel had left with her. She felt the static in the air, heard their feet shifting, and knew they were ready. 

"Stay _together_." She whispered, and the hand in her dress _squeezed_.

* * *

Disoriented, Amanda was passed between hands over and over as she heard guns firing and blunt weapons cracking. More than once she was yanked out of the way of something she never saw, as someone yipped or yowled and another body hit the floor. Their progress was slow, they hadn't come upon a single corner yet, and they were deep in the mall. Getting out was going to be _far_ from easy.

She heard one of the boys hiss in pain, and circled uselessly trying to pinpoint where they were. If only the lights were out. Every time she tried to peak from under her covering, she felt like knives were in her eyes and her IQ was dropping by the millisecond. Only once or twice did a stray bullet knock out a florescent.

"I feel it's only right I warn you," Priest yammered on over the sounds of violence, "they estimated it takes forty men to bring you in, ten each. Now, I pointed out to them that the _last estimate_ was based on the prowess of _teenagers_. I've personally seen one of you go through a dozen armed agents without so much as breaking a sweat. It also didn't take into account that there are _six_ of you now, not four, and I've seen the reports from the last few attempts at capture. So, I hired bit of extra help, a little swarm of my own."

"One week..." Drummer muttered to herself, pointedly ignoring his diatribe, she traced a cool wall with the back of her fingers, skipping over bullet holes and mallet gouges, "Just one week without someone trying to catch us, or kill us. Is that too much to ask?" 

Spun out and round like a woman in dance, Amanda found herself on the other side of the hall, as she heard a series of metallic clicks. A hand grabbed her head and dragged her down, and she realised they were taking cover.

"What-" 

The resounding gunfire was _stupendous_. Covering her ears automatically, Amanda let herself be yanked in tight against whatever it was they were hiding behind. The ground physically shuddered and pieces of their cover shattered and sprayed. More ammunition was spent in seconds than she ever thought possible. Someone dropped and scrambled up between her legs, and Drummer gripped their chest and knew it was Vogel. His clothes were wet, when she looked at her hands under the jacket there was fresh, bright red on her fingers. She pulled him in tight and blindly started exploring his chest.

"It's okay, Boss." He gasped, holding her hands as the firing continued, horrendous all around them, "It's not my blood."

"I thought he said they wanted us alive!" Cross shouted.

"Doesn't mean _he_ does." Martin growled as he cradled Beast against their cover.

"Beast!" Amanda cried out with a sudden thought, "What's the weird-word for 'hole'?" the wildling said it and Drummer readied the Wand whilst nudging Vogel, "Where is that gun?"

"Drummer-" Multiple hands reached out for her as she turned, readying to stand up.

"Just point me at it, damnit!"

Taking her arm, she could tell by the size of the hand that it was Gripps, and he pointed that limb very specifically slightly to the right. Hopping up, she shouted the word. There was a strange whoosh, a surreal unearthly pop and then a cacophony of clattering and the scream of a man falling away into an unimaginable distance. Amanda dropped back down shaking with disbelief.

Over the tannoy; "What... was that?"

* * *

The Rowdy 3 were pushing forward. Ploughing through men. Making for an exit. Over the sound system Priest could be heard yelling, arguing with agents who seemed to be reluctant to engage. Whatever Amanda had done, the going had eased, only those filled with hubris daring to break their own cover.

"I don't care what she's got!" The fury echoed as there was a long beat of muffled responses, "I'll do it myself!"

Erupting out into an open lobby, another empty fountain filled half the space, and the six of them hopped over the lip of it - Amanda guided by quick careful hands - and they all ducked down for cover. The sounds of dozens of feet moving over tiles pounded in their ears, as Cross' crowbar scraped across the tiles. Opposite to where they were, was a wall of exit doors. They lead out into a cracked and weed-encroached parking lot.

"We're almost out." He gasped, groaning as he rolled his shoulder.

"Are you hurt?" Amanda asked, trying to peak through the light, but he rested his hand over her head and shushed her.

With a quick shove they were all up and running, but as Amanda used the lip to help herself up she felt a something tear, a searing heat in her hand, a ringing shot as she screamed and cradled her fingers - the brand new owner of a gnarly fucking hole.

"Drummer!" Another shot sounded, and she saw someone's legs sprawling out by her feet.

The absolute horror that ran through her at the sight burst from her hand and out of the back of her bleeding head with burning light. Stumbling forward she didn't see Martin on the ground, she saw a crying boy, a whimpering wolf, trying to lick, trying to cradle his own shoulder. The jacket fell away from Amanda's head, split in two, flaming at the edges, and she saw the world as she had once before - golden and surreal, only an impression of reality. The beast before her nodded its assurances with frantic eyes, and she span to look where _that shot_ had come from. Her insides bubbled and boiled as fire licked out of the corners of her eye-sockets and she saw a black hole, a seething fleshy monstrosity, a screaming maniac; Mr Priest aiming right for her. His surprise was evident for only a moment, before he pulled the trigger.

"Will someone FUCKING _FIRE_?"

* * *

Amanda jerked as she felt shot after shot tear through her skin. Bolts of blackness in the pristine underlayer of life Amanda could now see. Each one was another surge of brightness burning out through the wounds. To her, what came out looked like rays of sunshine, a beam of purest light. Was she in pain? If she was it was a complete one. One that left room for no other kind. The bullet was nothing. The fire was her soul. Somebody shrieked, was it her? Was it Priest? One of the boys?

Riddled with bullets, every hit was tearing her asunder. A heat so raw spewed forth that it charred the ground about her; she was held together by its divine furious flame. Bright as a star and impossibly still alive, even as a bullet sped straight through her head, Amanda turned to Martin. Pointed at the hole, and melted the ammunition right out of him. He hissed and yelled, his skin darkening into a deep dark tan.

"Up!" She shouted and the Beast and her boys surged out of cover to crowd around her - a pack of dogs, a wall of men, a sea of children.

Hands flew out. Every bullet that came their way bubbled away into vapor. The skylight, easily 3 stories up, becoming discoloured and warped with her heat. It shattered down over them, and even _that_ melted into drops, then disappeared into nothing. The tiles under their feet blackened as they moved towards the doors and Amanda could see the skin on the back of the Rowdy 3's necks darkening as though they were out in the sun. The column of light made up of her was as bright as the sun, and her hair faded through black, to brown to gold.

When it was clear that bullets were no longer working, the army around them started to surge in again. The Rowdy 3 beat them back with fists as their weapons wilted. Amanda reached forward and grabbed Cross' scalp, seized Gripps neck, and the pair shuddered and surged, then vomited fire from their mouths. If they could feel it, they could _share_ it. They burned up any man dumb enough to come near them as her skin was split and shredded under the heat, her empty eye-sockets licked by fire. The black char on her hands was seeping up to her wrists as she screamed. 

From the corner of her eye she saw Martin ready his blackened bat, his hands singeing to the metal, and Amanda looked up to see Mr Priest with something heftier than a gun. Whatever he fired was also bigger than a bullet, and it was headed for the centre of them. The bile rose in her throat as Martin took his swing, and sent the damn thing straight back. Drummer sprayed all of her fury after it. Mr Priest ducked. Mr Priest tried to hide. Mr Priest died holding his head between his legs, trying to kiss his ass goodbye.

Lips blackened and broken, Amanda let go and screamed; "Eat!"

And as the Rowdy 3 consumed, huddling in tight, the lobby swelled with flame. They were the eye of a storm that spat out in every direction. The screaming writhing wave of people trying to get out of the way was horrific, eaten away by the rolling heat. Amanda pushed and pushed, felt it filling every hall and every store, sizzling through skulls and evaporating blood. The doors into the parking lot shattered, and the fire spewed out into the sunset. It was them or the Rowdy 3, you see, and the Rowdy 3 were never going to be on the menu.

The energy that was swallowed down seemed infinite, their bodies glowing gold as gods. The wolves tails waggled, the children shook, and the men howled. Light burst from their eyes as bright as her own as her wounds melted shut and her blackened hands became blackened arms. Shrieking as pieces of her blistered and bubbled, then healed in quick succession, Amanda watched the world swell with colour again. The layers of the world falling back down atop their blueprints.

It all ended with a sizzling whoosh. Silence ringing around them like it never had before. Their heaving wheezing breaths followed them all down onto the floor. They sprawled out exhausted and alone, but together. Beast was the only one who still stood. Above them, whining and waiting, she expected to see movement, more men headed their way. Amanda slid the Wand towards the Wild-Things feet, then looked over the boys with haggard eyes. Martin crawled over to her, and settled his head in her lap; Cross reached over and took his hand; Gripps pressed his forehead into Vogel's shoulder-blade; Vogel pressed his knuckles against Amanda's naked back - her clothes were gone, all burnt up, so were most of theirs.

* * *

Over the tannoy they heard a distant woman weeping, shuddering through notes as though she were singing a lullaby. Struggling to their feet, the Rowdy 3 shambled back into the mall, passing corpses almost straight out of a documentary about Pompeii. Heading up onto the second floor, they followed Martin's nose. Found Valkyres cradling her bleeding stomach against a computer bank of half-empty screens. The other half showed a massacre, so Gripps pulled out the wires.

"Been sunbathing, have we?" Val hiccupped, then laughed, looking over at them pale and bleary, "Did you do it? _Is he fucking dead_?"

Martin crouched in front of her, his body shaking with anger that really had nowhere to go; it was clear the woman was dying. The pool of blood about her was big enough to mean she should have been dead already.

"Yeah." He growled as Drummer gripped his unharmed shoulder.

"There was never a version where _I_ did it." Blood slipped from between her lips as she looked up at those seething eyes with genuine apology, "A thousand where I died, but _not a one_ where I got to kill the bastard. Never with _my own hands_. And only one where he got what _he deserved_. Only from _her_. I'm sorry. It was the only way-"

"Suicide by _Priest_?" Martin spat, baring his teeth so close to her face there should have been a drooling maw.

"I always said he'd be the death of me, and me of him." She whispered, "I meant it, Incubus."

Martin was up and out the door without another word, Cross quietly making after him. Drummer slid onto her knees, into the blood, and watched Val's breathing, slow, calm, but pained. The two women looking at each other thoughtfully. Two immeasurably powerful beings who understood very well what they were capable of.

"You're a hell of a thing." Val smiled weakly, "If only we'd known you sooner. Can you ever know the justice you served today? I thank you for it regardless-"

"If you want to thank me, you can take it back."

"Take what-"

"The one he picked. The death you gave." Drummer leaned forward and pushed against Val's wound cruelly, so the woman wailed, "The ending you wrote for a fucking kid who had no idea what his future would be."

Eyes rolling, Val cackled and nodded her head; "And which one would you rather? Back in the day, it was something he said he'd be proud of."

"Back in the day he thought a lot of dumb shit, from the bottom of a black hole he had to climb out of." Amanda pulled her hand back slowly, "So, how's about you don't make a choice at all? You let whatever comes to us come. You shuffle off this mortal coil having made your last choice for _you_ and nobody else."

Nodding, Val shuddered, and ceased to be. 

* * *

Amanda sped down the highway. The streetlamps flashing over her ever-stranger naked flesh - pocked and mottled, torn and blackened. The Rowdy 3 were asleep in the back as she took them away from another awful mess. All except Martin, who sat, head in hands, beside her in the front cabin. He was very still, which meant inside he was anything but.

Amanda knew, in some way, their lives had always been like this, but could not silence the nagging worry that her presence had made it so much worse. Would Blackwing have pursued them so insistently without her? Would they have been safer? Almost as though he felt the thought, Martin leaned over and stroked his hand over her thigh, gripped it tightly as he twisted to look at her. Even in the dark, his eyes were red with regrets, but also resignation.

"Better." His voice was hoarse, "Better from the moment I saw you."

"I tried to get it back." Amanda whispered, "I really did. I don't know-"

"Even if you didn't..." He rested his head on her shoulder, "Still the best way of living, knowing you. You with us."

"Why did you pick?" She breathed, holding back tears angrily.

"Hope's hard to see in the dark." He muttered, and she hissed at the thought of such hopelessness - had lived through some of her own.

"But you never told her about the boys?"

"Was like _that_ back then too, manipulating things to end when she wanted. Can't choose for folk she don't know, though... _couldn't_."

"So you kept them safe."

"Always."

"Well why couldn't you have kept _you_ safe?" Amanda pulled the Van over into the hard-shoulder, as tears streamed down her cheeks.

"You mean like you do?" He smiled, teasing.

She climbed over into his lap and buried her eyes against his skin. His shoulder still ached, but he held her closely. Quiet. He let her cry, and did a little of his own.

"Let- let's say she took it back, okay?" Amanda sniffled, eventually pulling away and wiping her face to look at him, "Whatever it is, whatever you picked, it's not your ending. In fact I get to pick. And it ends with you me, them, in a top of the range mobile-home with actual beds and a real bona-fide sound system. Old as fuck with stupid hair, yeah?"

Smiling, he kissed her, "Yeah."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End
> 
> That's it everyone!  
> That's everything I had in my head for this when I started 3 months ago.  
> Thank you for joining me.  
> I really hope you enjoyed yourselves.  
> I've not written this much in very long time and I've really appreciated the company.  
> Please leave a comment!  
> Even a ways down the line, it's always nice to know people liked something I made.  
> Bye guys x


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